Catalyst
by gotchu
Summary: War brews in the galaxy, a titan struggles to re-awaken, and Earth finds itself faced with its worst enemies yet. When a final prophecy is revealed to an unlikely hero, he fears he cannot move fast enough to save all that he loves.
1. Prologue

In the camp, she was known as "the escapist", a title she took pride in despite the fact that all five of her attempts to fulfill such a name had failed, resulting in a nice beating that revealed, if not the brutality of her captors, then at least their persistence; she had yet to be sentenced to death. And yet she still seemed determined to fulfill her goal, causing her fellow inmates to wonder what she so desperately desired. But the secret was never to be wrenched from her tight mouth with the ever-present half-smile that was both ironic and hopeful, determined and amused.

\- - -

The captain hurried to the boardroom, steps long and firm until he reached the steel door and froze, swallowing and knocking politely so that a metallic clang rang out in the almost dead hallway. Night had fallen long ago, attested to by the bags under the man's eyes. He smirked slightly as the door was opened and he saw who awaited. The general nodded to him and gestured inside the room, where the captain was met with the sight of a computer screen showing numbered faces and lists below them. Understanding passed over the captain's face, and he entered the room, followed by the general, who quietly closed the door behind them.

"You know better than me, captain." The general's voice seemed almost too loud. "Which one?" The captain nodded solemnly, contradicting the slight smile that touched the edges of his lips. He bent over the computer, scrolling silently through the faces and numbers, eyes bright and intense. It seemed as if the room breathed anticipation, watching carefully the pair that occupied it: the tired captain's tense form watched by the general's erect posture and searching eyes.

Finally the captain stopped. A breath followed and he looked up, meeting the general's eyes.

"This one."

The general followed the captain's outstretched finger till his eyes came to rest on the one in question. The grainy picture portrayed the face of a woman. Her blue eyes seemed to stare down the camera, a smirk touching the right side of her lips with one eyebrow slightly raised in mocking irony. Her hair was a dirty blonde, mostly pulled back except for loose strands that fell around and in her face, giving her a look that, coupled with her expression, revealed a determined recklessness that neared dangerously on madness.

"Prisoner 24601..." The general mused, nodding.

The captain straightened, his eyes meeting the general's, an unavoidably affirmative response.

"Very well. You know what to do."

\- - -

"Boy! Here- more food!" The shout rang through the cantina, somehow transcending both the noise of the band and the cacophony that was the clinking silverware, riotous laughter and insuppressible conversation of the late night crowd. Or maybe it was just loud because the waiter had learned to pay attention to the customer. Either he was a frequent attender, or his obnoxiousness was simply so noticeable and frustrating that his few visits seemed to be regular tortures. The waiter took a deep breath, met the eyes of the bartender, who offered a sympathetic look, and hurried over to the diner in need.

It seemed that the next hour of his shift lasted for an eternity, and when he was given permission to clean up in the restroom before going home, he was too exhausted to be grateful. Nodding politely, he entered the small room that served as the employee "break room", the name affectionately given to it, and changed back into civilian clothes.

Resisting the urge to curl into a ball and cease to exist, he splashed his face with water, running his palms down the almost wasted features. His eyes stared out at him in the dim light from the buzzing bulb overhead that barely lit the grimy bathroom. They were blue- blue and tired. Exhaustion replaced what once had been lively and hopeful. His blond hair, somehow dulled in the light, hung lank and loose around his face and he did his best to arrange it so that it covered his miserable eyes. For the fiftieth time that day, he struggled against his mind, pushing back the memories that threatened to sweep him into inescapable madness, the questions and doubts that harrowed him and the longing- the longing for something he would never, could never deserve.

And his heart sunk hopelessly.

\- - -

The lord had spent the day in his room, far too tired to leave it. For the past few years he'd lost the motivation to. The note, the fateful note declaring his daughter's intentions to leave, seeking what she had not yet found, still saddened him beyond words. And, though it declared her deep and abiding love for him and all he had done for her, it had yet to leave his thoughts. It rested upon the mantelpiece of his richly decorated bedroom, leaning against the mirror draped in black. In it, he saw his own face- the black eyes with deep bags beneath them, the graying hair, the wrinkles that he no longer cared to disguise.

A knock broke him from his reverie and he stood quickly, his pitch black robes sweeping along the floor as he hurried to the door. It was opened before he could reach it, and his wife's face met him. But instead of the proud, disdainful expression he had gotten so used to over the years, it was white with terror. Her voice trembled as she spoke in a tone quiet but no less alarming.

"War is upon us."

\- - -

A tremor of malice ran through the earth. Fear pricked the guts of the passers-by. A cruel chuckle seemed to sound beneath their feet. The trees shivered.

And down, deep, deep down, revenge was prepared.

_They would pay. Oh, how they would pay..._


	2. One

The door opened with a brief hiss and a bang as the metal slid into its respective slot in the wall. Through it walked four figures, illuminated uncertainly by the low-hanging, flickering lights suspended over the steel floor. The four moved quickly, three of them walking with hasty but firm strides, but the figure in the middle, shorter than the rest, was limping. It was slight but perceptible, as if it were a mere habit instead of the result of a recent injury.

As they passed beneath each industrial light, they were revealed in strange lighting to be three men and a woman. The woman owned the limp and she walked behind the man who seemed to be the leader, the impression confirmed by the ranking of a captain that graced his Corellian-cut field jacket. Beneath this, he wore a shirt the color of sand above belted military briefs. Combat boots protected his feet, and a blaster strapped to his thigh protected his life. His face was tan, with an expression that was at once harsh, cold, apathetic, tired and amused. Dark brown eyes matched dark brown hair that swung itself over his forehead and down to the collar of his jacket, untidy but smooth, unlike his facial hair- short and spiky hairs forming a "beard" only in the technical sense. His mustache seemed to be the only tidy aspect other than his militaristic demeanor.

The woman followed him. Blonde hair was pulled up behind her head, though much of it was loose, forming almost a halo of madness about her face, shadowing a majority of it except for her eyes- blue eyes that stared out with brilliancy that was both fascinating and unsettling- and pale but full lips touched with an amused smile. She dressed herself in black military briefs that hugged her muscles while remaining loose enough for easy movement. An empty blaster holster hung from her hip, tightening itself around her thigh. For the rest of her body, she had chosen a black shirt with writing across the top, partially concealed by a loose and unzipped hoodie that looked to be about one size too big. A black backpack hung from her shoulders, mostly empty, it seemed, except for something that weighted it down so that it bounced against her lower back with every step. Her arms lung loose before her, joined at the wrist by electronic handcuffs and bumping carelessly against her thighs.

The two that remained were obviously guards, following the woman with loaded blasters at the ready in their arms. They were clothed in the forest green of the Rebellion with black vests and black trousers and faces trained to be stoically apathetic. At any movement, any unexpected attack, they were prepared to act before thinking.

And on they walked.

The prisoner's mind wandered. From the thought that the man before her looked Hispanic to the question of why she was here to the wonder as to how long they intended to walk, her mind roamed. But suddenly they halted and she struggled to stop herself from running into the man as he slid an access card through a slot in the wall, producing yet another hissing rush of air and a bang as the door slid open. Blinding light flooded out and the prisoner's hands shot up to protect her eyes. As she lowered them, she realized, with some consternation, that none of the others seemed to be bothered by the sudden influx of light. They remained unmoved, practically statues.

As they entered the room, she realized that the light came from no particular space in the ceiling; it simply _inhabited_ the room. The mystery bothered her momentarily before her eyes came to rest on the woman who stood before her.

She was tall- no, stately. Her dignity had less to do with her physical height rather than her erect form, imposing but not unkind. The kindness lay in her eyes, a deep brown like the captain's. Hers, too, matched her hair, and though the cut was the same as the captain's, hers was far more clean and organized. The prisoner recognized her immediately as one of the heads of the Alliance, a Senator. In the prisoner's travels, she'd seen the familiar face more than once: in wanted posters, in newspapers where they were provided, in the long lists of those being hunted by the Empire that she'd seen in many a prison.

The captain spoke before the prisoner had proper time to examine the room. She was surprised at the accent that touched his words, having assumed that he was not from there, much less known what it was. "This is the one Draven was looking for. She refuses to remove her bag; I took the liberty of relaying her to you."

The woman's smile was kind, relieving the stress that had settled in her features. "You did well captain, and I will be sure to relay to the general how you have performed." She turned her gaze upon the prisoner, who had suddenly looked away when the Senator's head began to move. She was now observing the room about her with mirror-like eyes.

"Now," the Senator addressed the prisoner and the blue eyes focused immediately on the soft brown ones, snapping back to reality, "Would you be willing to explain yourself?"

"That depends." Was the answer. "What do you want to know?" The prisoner's eyes suddenly hardened, their amused and carefree expression leaving with a barely perceptible flash of pain.

The Senator smiled gently, intrigued but respectful. "Your name."

"Prisoner 24601."

"Your _real_ name."

"I'm sorry ma'am, but where I come from, names have power. I'd prefer not to share mine."

"Would it alarm you if I said we knew it already?" The question was asked with a raised eyebrow.

The prisoner shrugged, a small smirk touching her formerly cold lips. "It wouldn't surprise me. In fact, it would be reasonable of you. I might even respect you."

"Yet you will not say it now?"

"No, I won't."

A smile flashed across the Senator's lips at the prisoner's stubbornness. "Very well. May I ask what's in your bag?"

"You could." The prisoner nodded. "I could even show you if my hands were free."

The Senator turned to the captain, nodding. His expression was unreadable as he approached her and released the lock that held her wrists together. With a hiss they fell into his hands and she was free.

Everything happened in a split second after that. The captain was stumbling backward, holding his cheek where she had planted her fist as she whirled around and lashed out, kicking the blaster out of the hands of one of her guards before she yanked the other's blaster out of his fumbling hands and brought it down on his head. She shot the keypad, sparks flaring out as the door flew open and then she was sprinting, free and unstoppable down the corridor. The thrill of the chase filled her heart and it began to beat at a rapidity that defied all reason. Her legs were blurs beneath her, her lungs heaving with adrenaline and breathlessness, eyes bright and wild.

Her senses heightened, hearing sharpening so much so that she could hear the buzzing lights at a volume that drowned out all thought, smothered by the loud footfalls of both her and her pursuer. No fear filled her mind at that moment; she almost welcomed the challenge. This was escape, this was freedom, this was the chase, the sport and cause she had always and would always love. Happiness coursed through her, wild and reckless when she realized the nearness of her opponent. She had reached the next door by then, raising her blaster and shooting the keypad just as she had done to the one before, and again she shot through the opening.

She made it ten feet before she was stopped, an arm wrapping itself around her waist so that her legs flew from beneath her and she violently slammed to the floor as the man let go of her. She looked up and it barely registered in her mind that it was the captain before she flung herself into action, kicking out at his feet so that he came no nearer and shoving herself into a standing position. Her next move was to lash out, flinging a fist at his face the way she had before. He ducked this time, obviously having learned his lesson, and retaliated. She slid out of the way of his arm and jammed a fist into his side. A grunt followed this and she turned to flee, but was once again stopped.

The captain had latched onto her upper arm, but she writhed out of his grip, slamming an elbow into his side. She looked desperately about the space for her blaster, and as he lunged after her, she threw herself to the floor, rolling to reach the weapon before she shot back to her feet, gun in hand and ready, aimed directly at his heart. Unfortunately, he had had the same idea, along with the remaining conscious guard that had finally arrived, looking dazed but fierce. The prisoner was outnumbered, eyeing both blasters that seemed to stare her down.

"Move," the captain said, "And you're dead."

The captain and the prisoner heaved with adrenaline and loss of breath, eyes boring into each other, daring the other to back down, searching for a weakness in resolve, if not body. An eternity of time seemed to pass, brown battling blue until the prisoner's tense expression relaxed with a grudging smirk and her blaster clattered to the floor, far too loud in the echoing hall. Satisfaction spread across the captain's face and he nodded, lowering his blaster and acknowledging her hands, raised in surrender.

No words were needed to express the thought processes that flickered in their eyes. There was mutual respect: from the prisoner to the captain for his honorable and honoring victory, from the captain to the prisoner for her capability to know defeat when it met her.

After the silence had extended for far too long, the captain spoke. "Now- you're gonna come quickly and quietly with me to a cell. We'll decide what to do with you from there."

Despite the irritation that burned in her chest, the prisoner nodded and relaxed, the familiarity of his earthly accent calming her. Her arms fell limply to her side.

The movement gave the captain confidence and he nodded. "Good. Hand me your bag." The command was simple but the prisoner stiffened.

"Will I get it back?" Anxiety entered her voice at the question and pity flashed in the captain's eyes.

"Most likely, but I cannot make that promise." He answered, and uneasy but satisfied, the prisoner hung her bag on the captain's outstretched hand.

The captain nodded in response and handed the backpack to the guard beside him. The man took the bag and hurried off after making eye contact with the captain, who nodded his approval. The guard turned and went back the way he had come, stumbling a little, which gave the prisoner no small amount of satisfaction.

"Very well; follow me."

And the captain led her down numerous halls and through various turns till she was sufficiently lost enough to be unable to escape. Finally, they reached a long corridor of cells and the prisoner was deposited.

\- - -

The night had been sleepless. Her cell's cot, small and hard, was hardly enough comfort for such rest even if she had been able to relax. And so she sat, back pressed again the wall, legs bent and knees elevated so that they served as a support for her arms, extended out to where her fingers fiddled with the various rings that adorned her hands. A window had been set in place to her right where she might watch the passing of the day if she so pleased. She decided it would be inhospitable not to take advantage of such a luxury and thus, when the captain came for her the next morning, he found her staring out of it, watching the movements of the world outside.

In the brightness of the rising sun, her eyes had become almost clear, as if they had never really owned any color, the blue simply a trick of darkness to lead away from the crystal that her eyes really possessed. Only the scuffing of the captain's leather boots disturbed the image before him and the prisoner jerked her head about to see him. A joking smirk passed over her lips.

"Ah, captain, come to pronounce my fate?" She joked with mocking swagger.

The captain was partially taken aback by the sudden mirth, but realized he had always somewhat expected it of her in all their dealings. And, thus, he returned the expression, though the prisoner noticed that his eyes remained walls as he skillfully unlocked the cell door and opened it. It shrieked in protest but finally conceded, and the prisoner stood. He beckoned her out and she followed his command, standing before him with an amused and confused look on her face.

She held out her arms, joined at the wrists and raised her eyebrows. "Handcuffs?"

"The Senator has requested to see you in person. She believes that you will be curious enough to stay." The captain answered simply.

"And you?" The prisoner asked momentarily, lowering her arms.

The captain shrugged. "Half of me was expecting a punch in the face, but you no longer have your bag. I don't think you'll leave till you get it."

The prisoner smiled. "Observant." She remarked, nodding. "Alright, it's fine with me- I'm following you."

The captain nodded and turned, leading her through the row of cells.

\- - -

She found herself seated in a large open space, separated by holographic-like maps from the open area of the landing pad and its endless chaos. Her chair was placed before a large circular table whose middle was hollow, open for the projection of any holographic image. Around the edge of the table, several layers of blue rings glowed, mesmerizing in the dim light. Before her, across the table, stood the Senator, hands resting calmly and steadily upon the cold surface. She made direct eye contact with the prisoner, neither daring to look away, like swords sparring against each other in a deadly fight.

There was a cough and a new person entered the room. By the marking on his forest green uniform, the prisoner could see that he was a general. As he stepped into the light, she became aware of his deep set, exhausted eyes that rested in a wrinkled face. He looked as if he ate well, but was wasted by his job, an impression only furthered by the scraggly blond hair that seemed to barely cling to his head like the scrub brush of the desert. When he spoke, his voice was harsh, unlike the smooth awkwardness and familiarity of the captain's; she was acutely aware of his presence near her, hidden in the shadows so that he seemed to be one himself.

The prisoner maintained eye contact with the Senator for a moment, refusing to surrender, until the Senator finally turned to the new arrival, giving the prisoner a sideways look of impressed confusion. The prisoner returned it, before slumping into her chair so that she was barely perched upon the edge of the chair and her shoulders rested against the back. She crossed her arms over her stomach, letting them sink into the flesh, before she turned to the new man.

"This is General Draven." The Senator gestured in introduction to the man, and he nodded, affirming it. "He has some questions for you."

The prisoner resisted the urge to point out that she wasn't in kindergarten, but realized the joke would be lost on her audience, so she nodded.

Draven took this as an indication to speak. "Very well." He nodded and continued, flipping through papers on a clipboard as if it were the least important thing he could be doing. The prisoner found this amusing. "You call yourself Rowan Castellan, do you not?"

A nod.

Draven let out a small sigh of irritation and a smirk touched the prisoner's lips. "You seem to be wanted for a lot, Miss Castellan." There was the shuffling of papers and Rowan became aware that the captain had moved behind her. "Let's see... unauthorized possession of Imperial documents, unauthorized possession of unsanctioned weapons, unauthorized public gathering, unauthorized traveling, unauthorized-"

"Breathing. Unauthorized possession of life. Unauthorized thinking. Unauthorized emotions." Rowan interrupted Draven, staring into the distance before her as amusement filled her features. Suddenly she looked up to his face and found he was smiling, something that pleased her. The Senator smirked and she heard the captain behind her trying to withhold sniggers. "Can we move on to the interesting stuff?" She asked the general.

He chuckled lowly and flipped a page. "Assault, arson, murder, theft, um..." He paused and confusion filled his face.

"What?" Rowan asked, genuinely interested.

"Impersonation of Darth Vader?"

A chuckle sounded behind her and she knew it was the captain, which brought a smile to her lips. "Good times, good times..." She muttered as an explanation.

Draven shook his head in amusement. "Moving on: breaking and entering, resisting arrest and resisting imprisonment."

Silence reigned and Rowan watched Draven, awaiting his questions.

"What we want to know is this: would you be willing, if given the chance, to help us discover why the Empire is extracting kyber crystals en masse?" Draven asked. "You seem to have a familiarity with the way the Empire works and your list of crimes shows you are no friend to them."

But Rowan had already tensed, the captain following her. Alarm filled her, concern him.

Her voice was low, cautious, when she spoke, and she sat up, fixing Draven with an intense gaze. "Did you say 'kyber crystals'?"

"Yes. Do you know something of this?" Draven asked, hope flickering in his eyes, coupled with unspeakable dread at her expression.

"No. No, I don't. But kyber crystals are powerful. Whatever the Empire is doing, it's bad. Catastrophically bad." Alarm had replaced all apathy in her face as she turned to the Senator.

"They power the Jedi lightsabers, right?" The captain stepped into the light, arms crossed. Between his high cheekbones and the dim light, strange shadows were cast across his face, masking his expression so that only his eyes glinted out.

"Rowan, this is Captain Cassian Andor, Rebel Intelligence." The Senator introduced him, slight pride touching the wrinkles around her eyes.

"We've met." Rowan nodded and turned to him. "In answer to your question, yes, kyber crystals power lightsabers, Jedi and Sith. But there's more to them than that." Somehow she was able to meet his eyes despite the rising panic in her chest.

"What do you mean?" He took a cautious step forward, as hesitant as his emotions.

"They..." Rowan trailed off, struggling for a way to express what she needed to say without giving too much away. "They're sacred for one- and not just to the Jedi. Cultures you've never even heard of consider them precious because they have the ability to store and transfer power at levels that a Jedi or any other powerful creature would be unable to attain on their own. The Jedi rely on them so much because of that."

"What do you mean by other powerful creatures?" Cassian asked, confusion in his voice.

Something flickered behind Rowan's eyes. "Like I said, there are cultures in existence that you've never heard of- it's not my place to reveal them."

Cassian nodded and looked to the Senator. Rowan curiously followed his gaze till her eyes met the Senator's.

"So," Rowan asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"You're willing to help us?" Draven's eyebrows were raised and she met his gaze.

"If what you say is true, we're all in danger. Consider it the urge to survive. But I have one condition." Rowan met the Senator's eyes.

"What is it?" She nodded.

"I want my stuff back."

Something in the Senator's expression sent a thrill of panic through Rowan. The awkward silence became unbearable.

It was her turn to ask questions. "What is it?"

"We want information on what was in your bag." Draven answered and nodded to Cassian. Rowan's head followed the movements quickly, eyes wide and desperate. Cassian left the space momentarily, before returning with her bag in his hands. He handed it to the Senator gently, but Rowan's eyes bored into him angrily, and a stab of guilt shot through him. He lowered his eyes as he returned to his position beside her. She resisted the urge to slam her fist into his side.

Her eyes shot back to the Senator as the woman spoke. "What is this?" In her hand was a small metal flask.

"Booze." She gave the Senator a sarcastic look. "It's just some nectar." When all in the room looked confused, she elaborated. "You can drink it for either refreshment or healing."

The Senator raised an eyebrow but moved on, holding up a small baggie of what looked like toffees.

"It's called ambrosia. It's another healing thing."

"And this?" The Senator held up two vials that contained a sickly, poisonous green liquid that twisted and turned like a viper. Rowan noticed with a smirk how all in the room seemed to tense.

"Greek Fire. It's sort of an easy-to-make, portable grenade. I don't recommend dropping it."

The Senator placed it on the table, eyeing it uncertainly before holding up the next object.

"Passport."

"And this?"

"Wallet. But I'm broke for the most part, so don't expect a lot. It's just my driver's license. Maybe a guitar pick. And my debit card's got nothing on it so... I might have a Chick-fil-a gift card, but that's about it. I may have some drachmas, but that's not common currency so it's worthless."

Half the words were terms that none at the table understood, but Cassian couldn't help but notice that the walls had returned in her eyes. And he suddenly realized what it was; she was scared. She was scared of those she had been surrounded by, uncertain of how to act, how to stay unharmed.

"And these?"

"Headphones."

"What's this?"

"It's called an iPod. You save songs and can play them. It's got some good music in it, but it's out of battery."

The Senator held up a box shaped object.

"Speaker for the iPod."

"And this?"

Rowan's eyes lit up in a series of emotions. Sorrow, anger, fear, confusion. They all flickered to life. But mostly longing and hatred. Again, confusion filled Cassian.

It was a knife, an ancient one with a carved hilt and a blade shaped strangely like a leaf. What was even stranger was the glow that radiated from it: a golden sheen that shone warmly in the dim light.

"It's what it looks like."

"Why are you carrying it? It would be useless against blasters." Cassian cocked an eyebrow and she looked up into his face.

"I'm not using it to fight." Was her only response.

"Then why do you have it?"

"To bring someone home." And she looked at the floor, hiding her eyes, though Cassian didn't miss the shimmer of tears that threatened to overflow.

"Who and why?" The Senator asked mistrustfully.

Rowan looked up and Cassian was amazed at the almost disdainful sternness that filled her irises as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and folding her hands. "Ma'am, if you don't trust me, come right out and say it. You don't have to interrogate me to learn everything about me. If you're dying to know, then know this: I had a relative- a half brother, though that's a long story- who ran away. He was vulnerable and used because of it. What he did under that influence lived with him and filled him with regret and guilt until he reached breaking point. I had reliable evidence that he retreated here to escape and disappear. A war-torn galaxy would be perfect for him. The knife is to remind him that he is loved and that forgiveness is available- all he must do is seize it. Now," and a mournful smile touched her lips, "Is that satisfactory? If not, finish your questions quickly. You want me to help you find out more as to what the Empire is doing and I will. If you cannot trust in the legitimate good intentions of an individual, then calm yourself knowing that my intentions are entirely selfish. The Empire has the power to interfere with my own desires and I cannot allow that. Now, finish your questions. Time is not on your side." She leaned back into her former position, crossing her arms.

The Senator smiled. "Very well. The interrogation is over. Your mission is simply this: you and Captain Andor will be assigned with the task of finding and questioning various spies on certain planets. We hope that at least one of them has information on the kyber crystals."

The Senator nodded to Cassian, who looked disappointed but accepting. Rowan was less able to control her emotions.

"Andor? Seriously?" She looked at him. "You know we didn't get off to that great of a start, right?"

She missed the knowing smile on the Senator's face. "Yes, I do. But he is known to all under his command and you have experience with the Empire." The Senator explained, sliding Rowan's possessions back into her backpack.

"You have one day to prepare. Captain Andor will lead you to your lodgings for the night." Draven added and bid them leave.

The Senator handed Rowan her bag as she stood and reached for it. Rowan slid it onto her back and smiled at the familiar weight. She gave a dramatic bow to the Senator and Draven, before turning to Cassian, who smirked and led her away. Their footsteps echoed in a strange rhythmic music as they hurried down through crowds and hallways until they reached a corridor of rooms, their footsteps ending halfway down. The door was iron, with a small keypad that Cassian immediately began to type a code in.

Cassian opened the door inward, outstretching his arm and moving close to the wall to keep it open.

"You know, you'd think by 'lodging' he would be speaking of a grand suite or something, but I forgot y'all like technical terms." The words fell out of her mouth as she observed the refugee camp-like interior. She had been given a bunk and a desk, with a shower that had been crammed into the corner. A single chair occupied the room, placed beneath the bunk and taking up a majority of what little floor space that had been left to her.

With a shrug, she entered the room, closely passing Cassian's smirking face as he laughed inwardly.

"Are they suitable then, your highness?" He asked, layering the sarcasm into his words.

"Perfectly suitable, thanks." She answered distractedly, running a hand down the side of the bunk until she reached the end and turned to face Cassian, a corner of her lips turned up in a small smile. "Be off, slave!" She waved him away jokingly, genuine laughter in the crinkles about her eyes.

"Very well, my lady." He bowed his way out, smiling, and the door slammed shut behind him.

Rowan listened to his footsteps as they faded away down the long corridor and then, when she could no longer hear them, she dropped her bag to the floor and collapsed back into the chair, rubbing her forehead despairingly.

"Luke, man, why'd you have to go?" She whispered into the silence. "Why'd you have to go?"


	3. Two

Her chest rose and fell peacefully, slow and controlled breaths taken in and out as the exhaustion of weeks left her body. And then her eyelids fluttered. Her breath hitched and her head jerked upon the pillow. Faces flashed in her mind's eye, followed by scenes that seemed to fill her vision. Screams, cells, prison walls, hunger, thirst, pain and then Luke, shouting for her to run, begging her to keep moving, telling her it would be okay. He'd keep her safe. And then it was over, replaced with pounding feet, gasping breaths, a scream rends the night and it comes from her. Fire in the sky and Leo is gone. The ground shifts beneath her feet, Gaea is there, Gaea is there, she cannot trust her feet. It's swallowing her, the ground rising up around her, Gaea's laugh of triumph. No, no it's Camp Half Blood. She's sinking into the sheets of the Hades cabin. She's happy here. And then it's gone, gone to be replaced with Luke's body, broken and bleeding upon the floor of the throne room. She's at his side. There's so much blood, so much blood...

It was over in a jolt. She shot up in bed, sweaty clothes clinging to her gasping body. She looked around herself, wide-eyed, mouth open, heart pounding. Instinctively, she ran a hand over her forehead, pushing her bangs back from her face, where they'd clung to her clammy skin. She took a deep, shaky breath, forcing herself to calm down before she rubbed her red eyes, wincing at how dry they felt. And so she sat, hands limp in her lap, legs outstretched before her, back slouched and head hanging low as she struggled to recover.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and she looked up, eyes fixed upon it.

"Come in!" She called out, both wishing and dreading that it might be Cassian. At this moment, he was the only one she trusted, partially because by watching his actions she had determined what he really wanted. But she knew that her mind would take any attempts at intimacy with him as an attempt to let out a torrent of problems on his already tormented mind. She had no right to do that; she knew all she was looking for was a replacement for Luke, and Cassian was not required to fill that just because they were now partners.

Thus, she breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief when the door was pushed open by a man she was unfamiliar with.

"You're requested on the landing platform. Bring anything you may need. I will lead you there," he recited, and retreated into the hall to wait, the door slamming closed behind him.

Rowan nodded to the door, and slid off her bunk, hurrying about the room as she stuffed anything she might need, from clothes to gadgets to the borrowed weapons that had been placed on her desk during her restless sleep into a duffel or her backpack. Once ready, she bid the unfamiliar room goodbye, and stepped into the hall, the heavy door closing with a bang that caused her to flinch. And then they were off, striding through the halls back to the place she had been the day before, only now she couldn't pinpoint the interrogation table she'd been seated at in the mess that was the landing platform.

Action reigned, from pilots sprinting to and fro on schedule, to droids logging information into computers. Speakers implanted in the ceiling and walls constantly relayed commands for the general population, barely discernible above the sound of ships taking off at regular intervals and the general din of the masses of people. Small droids zipped about on their wheels while tall ones loped through the crowds, slow and controlled in contrast to the bustling business and constant movement of the humans surrounding them.

She felt out of place, as if the productivity and dedication of those around her made them so much more worthy of attention than her. It was all so unfamiliar, this activity, this openness, this organization. In all the other wars she'd fought, it'd been a chaotic mess of spontaneous decisions, mostly because of the technology available. Although she knew, if Leo had his way, that would never have been a problem. And so she walked, cut off from the world around her and yet part of it all the same.

The messenger abandoned her once they reached the landing port and she found herself standing alone, eyes scanning the space before her until she spotted Cassian by a mid-sized ship, unloading a duffel that looked much like hers.

Before advancing to him, she took a moment to examine him. He was tight, militaristic. Dedicated, though, would have been the better word. Every bone, every muscle, every feature bespoke a certain loyalty and ferocity that made her wary of him and yet, at the same time, confident. She knew she would be able to anticipate at least some of his actions. He would do whatever he had to for the Rebellion. Satisfied with her calculations, she moved toward him. Cassian heard her coming and straightened when she reached him.

"Good morning." She greeted, nodding and slipping past him into the ship.

"Good morning." He returned, a smirk crossing his face. "I'm surprised that didn't come with a punch."

Rowan laughed, sliding her duffel bag off her shoulder and tossing it into a corner of the floor space. "Don't push your luck, Andor."

Cassian smirked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't intend to. I'm going to let Draven know we're leaving. Get comfortable."

"Will do." She nodded, and he turned away, disappearing into the flurry of the landing port.

"Hello." The greeting caused Rowan to look up in surprise from her position crouched by her backpack on the floor, rummaging through it for Luke's knife. "I'm K-2SO." The voice came from the cockpit and Rowan recognized it to be an Imperial droid. She tensed a little, confused as he continued. "You can call me K or K-2, whichever you prefer."

"Well then- hi, K," Rowan greeted as she slid the knife from her backpack into a pocket in the inner fabric of her jacket and then returned to search for a blaster in her bags.

"_I'm_ a reprogrammed Imperial droid." Rowan froze in her attempts to buckle the blaster into its holster on her hip. The emotion in the droid's voice surprised her; it seemed _proud_. In her experience with droids, limited as it was, she'd rarely detected emotion in their voices. And this one seemed full of it.

"And I'm y'all's new partner." She struggled for a response through her amazement, hurriedly turning away to finish securing her blaster. And then she stood, making her way to the neon orange chairs placed back to back, three on each side, in the middle of the ship.

"Cassian is curious about you." K commented as she sat. "He wonders if you're trustworthy."

There was a pause and Rowan resisted the urge to say that "so did she" before K spoke again.

"But he likes your sense of humor."

A smile flashed across her face. "He's got one, too."

A silence ensued for half a minute as Rowan examined the ship before K broke it again.

"And are you trustworthy?" The droid asked.

Rowan gave it a curious look, amusement and wonder flickering in her eyes, coupled with a respect she never believed she'd feel for a droid. "Most of us are out for our own gain. If he wants to trust me, he's just got to find out what I'm after."

"I predict there is more to you than selfishness, if that's what you mean." K stated simply, going back to his work with the ship.

Rowan smirked. "What's your proof?"

"You want to show your brother that he can be forgiven-"

"-Because I miss him, and I want him back. That's selfishness."

"And still my prediction is not shaken." K returned.

"You know," Rowan said, eyeing Cassian, who she could see advancing back toward the ship, "This is an awfully deep conversation for two people who have just met."

"Well, I suppose we should avoid the deep conversations until we are on the verge of death, then. That's generally how humans like it."

Rowan laughed loudly at the sarcasm lathered into the words. "Fine. Once we're on the brink of death, we can have a one-on-one therapy session. Until then, we can talk about the weather."

"There is no weather in space."

"Regrettable. Then I guess we just won't talk."

"Oh, I'm sure there will be much to talk about. Like food shortages and fuel shortages and low water supply."

Rowan laughed again. "Pessimism. My favorite. You're either right or pleasantly surprised."

"And according to you, it would be the same with cynicism." K's voice held amusement.

"Very true."

At that moment, Cassian returned, leaping into the ship. He slid on a pilots' jacket and headset as he spoke to her.

"I see you've met K-2. Was it pleasant? He has a bad habit of saying whatever comes into his circuits. It's a by-product if the reprogramming." Cassian looked her in the eyes as he spoke, trying to gauge her emotions.

There was no malice in her expression. "Nah, I like him."

"She's far wittier than you, Cassian." The comment came from K, and Cassian turned about to face him, eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Is she really?" he asked, and turned back to her. "I see you've made a good first impression- he rarely compliments people he's just met."

Rowan grinned. "You missed it. We just had a conversation on pessimism and cynicism."

"And?"

"I heartily approve. Especially of his sarcasm." She added, smiling.

Cassian returned the expression. "Good. Maybe we'll all get along this time."

Rowan laughed as Cassian turned away, sliding into his seat at the cockpit on the right of K-2. He reached up to flick a few switches before refocusing his attention on the dashboard before him. Behind her, the door slid shut and she was immersed in the industrial light of the bulbs above her and the small amount of sunlight that filtered through the long window on the door and at the head of the ship.

Cassian looked back at her over his shoulder. "Ever been to Jakku, Rowan?"

"Haven't had the pleasure." She answered.

"Well prepare yourself." He turned back to K and nodded. "It's not very pleasurable."

K punched a few buttons, and they were off, rising into the air from the landing pad as dust billowed around them.

"I won't get my hopes up." Rowan stated and moved to the seats facing the window to watch as the Rebel base disappeared behind her, swallowed up in the long dark of space.

\- - -

The waiter woke with a jerk, the loud banging of his upstairs neighbor jolting him awake. A groan escaped his lips and he rolled over to face the grimy window that looked out onto the streets of Coruscant. It wasn't a pretty sight, especially at this time; the child laborers were just beginning their treks to their respective places of employment, the trading stalls- run by dirty, gambling fools, mostly drunk- were slowly forming and the sunrise, barely visible through the industrial smoke, was illuminating the grounds, casting them into a light more disgusting simply because of the fact that it revealed there to be more to the galaxy than the mess of this planet. But the depressing reverie would get him nowhere and the clanging movements of his neighbor were growing louder as his brain adjusted to the state of being awake.

He sighed and swung his feet over the edge of his bed and stood, the cold stone floor shocking his bare skin. A yawn split his face, and he stumbled a few feet to the wall beside his door, flicking on the apartment light. With a buzz and a squeak, the light popped on, uncertainly illuminating his small, one room apartment. He'd won it in a gamble and was thankful for it in at least that sense, for at the time he'd had no money to pay for it.

From where he stood before the door, he was right across from his rickety bed. To his left lay the "kitchen". It was called such because it contained a table and two chairs and a small counter where one might prepare a sandwich so long as they held all the supplies. Stacked on the kitchen table were all his belongings in a bag- a few books, some pictures that he never dared look at but never dared dispose of, and a ukulele, something he hadn't played in a long time. And, tucked far beneath his bed, lay the thing he refused to look at even now, years after all the memories he'd desperately tried to suppress in his mind. It was a sword, one side a glowing gold material, the other hard and cold. What should have been destroyed had lived on, like the memories he struggled to avoid. And yet, they still plagued him.

Which brought him back to the present as he trudged the few feet to the kitchen and pulled an energy drink out of the cabinet, sipping it unhurriedly. The night had been sleepless as usual, and the day would start in two or three hours. He had no reason to rush, and to be perfectly honest, he didn't want to. His job paid well- enough to buy him sustenance and keep his housing, though the term was only applicable in the technical sense.

It took thirty minutes to finish the drink, the counter digging into his lower back as he leaned against it, legs stiff and crossed, eyes boring into the wall across from him. He'd lived in the apartment for the last three years and the surface hadn't changed since, unless it just got grimier and grimier, its filth increased by the passing of time and how little it was cared for.

But his thirty minutes were up, and he shoved himself to a standing position, hurriedly undressing and slipping into his uniform. The name-tag, gleaming gold in the flickering light, showed the word "Luke". It was his true name, he regretted, but mainstream enough to not gain any unwanted attention.

His mind was far away as he left his apartment and stumbled down the dark hall to the elevator at the end. None of it had changed. His neighbors, he had barely gotten to know: the one on his right was an Imperial officer, underpaid and lonely; the one on his left was a street-sweeper who got in late every morning. Luke saw him only now, on the elevator, the man's eyes red and wide, his shabby uniform dusty and sweaty and his hair clinging to his prematurely wrinkled forehead in matted clumps. Today seemed to be no different. The man stepped off the elevator and Luke stepped on. There was a small exchange of eye contact, a nod, a slight wave, but nothing more. Only on days where one or the other was feeling particularly good was there a whispered "hello", hoarse and broken, as if neither used their voice frequently.

But this time, their hands met, and Luke felt something slip into his palm. Keeping his face stoical, normal, he continued into the elevator. The other man did the same. Only when the elevator door had closed did Luke dare to open the paper.

A shaky sigh, as shaky as the buzzing light above his head, left his barely parted lips and met the air. His heart rate seemed to both drop and speed up at an unimaginable pace as the the four words branded themselves into his retina, written in a hasty and scrawling hand:

"They're coming for you."

And the elevator jolted to a stop, high above the first floor. High above his destination.


	4. Three

"So what, exactly, are we doing here?"

Rowan squinted against the blinding sun that reflected off the hot, shifting sands of Jakku beneath her feet. Cassian worked in the ship behind her, packing a bag that he then swung over his shoulders before walking to stand beside her.

"We have an informant here. Your job is to watch out for the Empire, which hopefully you know how to do." Cassian turned back, watching K-2 exit the ship.

"No!" Rowan exclaimed.

Cassian turned sharply to her, alarm flashing dangerously in his eyes. "What do you mean?! We need you to help us. If you don't know anything, then you're more of a liability."

"Not that." She looked up at him, her entire face scrunched to alleviate the pain of the sun's bright rays. "You were the perfect shade and you moved." She moved to a position where he would be blocking the sun. A silence ensued in which Cassian looked amused.

"But yes, I'm able to look for the Empire. Though I don't know why they'd want to be here." She looked out onto the ragtag collection of ramshackle buildings and poorly assembled trading stalls. From here, she could almost smell the stench of human sweat; though, she realized with a smirk, it might have been her own.

"Do you want a hat?" Cassian asked suddenly and she looked up, surprised.

"Nah, it's fine." She shrugged. "I'm already sweating."

An amused, almost confused smile passed over his face as he turned to face K-2 again. "K!" He called and the droid lifted its head.

"Cassian?" Came the droid's voice.

"Stay with the ship. I'll contact you if we need help."

"Fine. Have fun on a secret mission without me."

Rowan snorted, doubling over for half a second before straightening quickly and turning back to K-2. Cassian just looked at her, an eyebrow cocked.

"It's okay, K. If anything interesting happens, I'll make Andor tell you. Deal?" She called to him.

Cassian rolled his eyes and started down the sandy slope to the town flickering in the heat a few hundred meters from them. They'd landed here because of its distance from the city and its relative invisibility as the heat rose in waves from the shifting desert sands, concealing anything more than two hundred meters away. Unfortunately, this was the heat they would have to trek through, only to reach a city inhospitable as it was untidy.

"Don't have too much fun!" K-2 called after them as Rowan set off to catch up to Cassian. "And remember you're confining me to boredom!"

A laugh escaped Rowan and she waved a hand at him, not looking back. "Don't worry! See if you can recharge my iPod and I'll play y'all some good music!"

"Why would you live on this rock anyway?" Rowan asked when she caught up to Cassian, squinting at the city beneath their feet.

Cassian shrugged. "Anonymity. You, of all people, would understand that."

Rowan smirked. "I keep forgetting how observant you are."

"I'm head of Rebel Intelligence; I have to be," he returned, stumbling as the wind pulled his footing from beneath him. Rowan moved to grab his arm, but he steadied himself, and she went back to fighting for her own ground against the hot, dry winds.

"I see your point." She nodded.

On they continued in silence, slipping and sliding more than walking down the slope till they were chuckling by the time they reached the plain, bathed in scorching sun.

"If you don't mind my asking-" Cassian started, wiping sweat from his eyes and forehead, but he was cut off by Rowan.

"Don't start that way; I'm getting nervous," she stated, raising her hands.

He smirked. "Very well. I'll just ask. Your emotions change a lot. With what you explained to Mon Mothma, I'd expect you to be darker. Why aren't you?"

A laugh burst from Rowan's lips. "What happened to 'no expectations'?"

Silence ensued until Rowan took a deep breath. "You and K-2 are very good at starting personal conversations with new acquaintances. Yeah, I'm not what you would expect, am I? I don't know the answer to your question. Maybe it's because I have hope now, and that's not something I generally encounter. If I find Luke- my brother- then maybe I'll have a home. We lived together on the streets for a while and he protected me and I him sometimes. If you're talking about all the weapons I have, that's just because I haven't been safe since I turned eleven, so I have to bring those with me."

Cassian was silent. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, but Rowan cut him off once more.

"I'm sorry. We barely know each other and I'm ranting about my life story. It wasn't my place and I apologize."

Cassian smiled amusedly and looked at her from the corner of his eyes. Her skin was bright in the sun, and her eyes glittered in its rays, sweat shimmering on her brow. But the expression on her face lacked the irony that he was finding it usually maintained. It was truly apologetic and uncertain, greatly unlike the face she'd made when sternly rebuking the Senator on trust.

"I asked," he returned. "You don't have to apologize."

"Thanks, man." She looked up at him and smiled as much as possible against the sun. "So," she released a pent up breath, "What's your tragic backstory? I know you have one; you're too dedicated to this cause not to."

"My father died during a revolt during the Clone Wars. I was already working for the rebels then on the streets and they took me in. I've given myself to this cause since I was six. I- well, this is the only thing I have to turn to," he said simply, robotically.

Rowan nodded, wiping the sweat away from her eyes. "I'm sorry. About your dad. What about your mom?"

"Dead." He looked down, counting his footsteps.

"I'm sorry."

They continued in awkward silence.

Finally, Rowan looked up at him, noting the silence _in_ his expression, as opposed to the silence it _produced_. His eyes, scanning the ground, were darkened beneath his brow, the color of his hair turning to a light brown in the all-encompassing sunlight. His lips remained closed, a thin pale line that ran its path between his cheeks, darkened by the shadow of his high cheekbones. What she could see of his expression, though, was that it was troubled. Silent memory, almost agony, played across his features in a show of something at once heroic and sad.

Finally, Rowan spoke. "Hey, I'm sorry I brought up painful memories. It wasn't intentional."

He looked at her, a smile flickering in his eyes as a corner of his lip twitched upward. "You know, for the cold-hearted, apathetic look, you're kinder than you let on. Apology accepted."

"_Psh... Me? Kind?_ What drugs are you on, slave? Now go, get me some water and fan me. I am above you; I am your master," she huffed proudly and crossed her arms, putting on a mocking expression of arrogance as her eyes turned back to the city, laughter in their shape.

Cassian laughed, and she turned back to him, watching the transformation that came over his features. The tired look in his eyes was replaced with sparkling amusement, squinting as they sent out rays of wrinkles like the roots of a tree into his skin, disappearing beneath his hair. She smiled at this, finding his laugh both pleasing and fascinating.

The shared mirth soon faded to comfortable silence. Sweat had begun to run in rivulets down her back, tickling as they traced lines on her skin.

"Dang, man." She groaned. "I wish I hadn't worn all black." And she shifted her shoulders, adjusting the backpack on her back. "How far away are we?"

"Not very far." He answered, eyes falling to watch her. Something in her expression had changed. A strange openness now lay in them, guarded and stumbling, but there all the same. He didn't know whether to be happy or scared at the new development. Camaraderie was something he did his best to avoid, despite the obvious pleasure felt in it. He simply couldn't afford it.

But her change in expression jerked him back to reality. Her eyes had narrowed, concerned and confused on a level he had never seen. Wild interest had sparked in her features and he followed her gaze to the plain, where he saw a man silhouetted against the sun, arms high in he air and flailing frantically.

Without any consultation, both stumbled into a run, sprinting as fast as the sands would allow them to the man. As they came nearer, sheer horror clawed at Rowan's gut and she resisted the urge to puke. He was utterly ruined. Rags hung off what would have originally been called his limbs, but now were nothing more than bones and a vague representation of what must have been lean muscle. His hair barely remained, just occasional strands of some sun-bleached color that might have, in a past age, been black. His eyes bulged out of a corpse-like face of rotting skin stretched tightly over almost visible bone, the only hydrated aspect of his body. His lips were cracked and dry, his nose beaklike. And the stench, the stench that hung upon him like a vulture, was terrible. It radiated out before him, reaching her and Cassian a few feet before they'd even reached him.

When they did, he collapsed, a strange smile spreading over his broken lips. Rowan fell to her knees beside him, swinging her backpack off her back and onto the ground so that it sent up a miniature plume of dust. Behind her, Cassian looked down upon the man, horror disfiguring his face as he recognized the wasted figure. Rowan searched through her bag quickly, finding a water bottle that she promptly held to the man's lips as Cassian knelt on his other side and raised him gently.

The man gulped from the bottle violently and groped at it like a baby receiving a bottle of milk. Rowan's eyes were piteous, eyebrows knit together in concern and lips pursed in disgust and sorrow. Finally, the man beckoned for her to stop, and she did, pulling away the bottle and screwing the lid on quickly. She sat back on her heels and watched Cassian help the man further up. And then she focused on Cassian himself. The man had fear and confusion plastered on his face, and she could tell by the tenseness of his muscles that he had no idea what to do.

Finally able to breathe normally, the man waved Cassian's helping hands away and gulped air into his lungs before fixing Cassian with a look of such admiration and hope that Rowan grew even more confused at Cassian's horror.

"Captain..." His voice was dry and cracked, so he swallowed and started again. "Captain Andor?" he asked hopefully and Cassian nodded. "Sir, if you're here for information, I don't have any. The city was fully occupied by the Empire a month ago, and they weeded us out. They chased us out here."

"Where are the rest of you?" Cassian's eyes were violently angry but controlled as he did his best to mask the rage in his voice.

"We're hiding out in the ruins. I saw your ship come in and came to meet you." He explained.

Rowan held the water bottle out to him again, silently asking if he wanted more. The man nodded, and she unscrewed the lid, handing it to him. The creature gulped more water down his parched throat, as desperate as a fish removed from the water for an agonizing time and finally placed where it belonged.

Cassian opened his mouth to ask another question, but Rowan cut him off.

"Are you hungry?" She asked.

"Yes." The man nodded, though the tone in his voice and the eagerness in his eyes were more than enough of an affirmative.

She immediately began to rummage through her bag, finally pulling out a protein bar that she hoped hadn't expired in the years since she'd gotten it. The man nodded his thanks as he began to nibble the end, fixing Cassian with intense eyes.

Cassian smiled a little to himself at Rowan's kindness and nodded in acceptance of the man's attention. "How have you been surviving?"

"I don't know how to answer that." The man shrugged. "Every week, food just appears at the entrance of the U-Wing we're hiding in. We don't know who it comes from, but it's too good to come from the village."

"That sounds..." Cassian shook his head. "Improbable. Are you sure that's what happens? Have you not seen people putting it there?"

"No... No we haven't." The man's eyes grew grim. "The only problem it brings is madness. Some of us have lost our minds in reaction to the food. They've started speaking of lights inside of people and monsters that will eat us." Cassian's eyebrows knitted together, not noticing that Rowan had frozen in her actions. Her muscles had tensed, her eyes hardened, thoughts almost visibly racing behind them as she gazed at the man intensely, warily. "We haven't been able to pinpoint a pattern, but the food is all we have. The 'monsters', though, seem to be vaguely close to the truth. We've lost a few men on trips to the city. The ones that come back refuse to speak- the only one who _has_ explained that the creature they met had a tail of metal and thorns. He gave no information other than that and said no more. We later lost him to a comatose state- he's not the first to have done that."

"What does the food look like?" Rowan asked suddenly, something dawning in her face.

"What? Oh- like small brown squares." He explained, meeting her eyes, confused.

Rowan refused to meet Cassian's gaze as his head whipped to face her, focusing instead on the man. "You would have been unable to see our ship land from the ruins, but you said you could see us. Who told you to come here?"

The man paled as much as he could in his tanned skin. "What do you mean?"

"You must have come here with a purpose. What was it? _To gather flowers?_ How did you know we were coming?" Rowan's voice was stern and commanding.

"I was told in a dream..." The man trailed off. "I don't know how to explain it- it was like there was a voice coming out of a stormy sky..."

"-that told you to come here. What did it call us?" she asked, and Cassian was amazed at her obvious disregard of the man's evident lunacy.

"The future." He answered simply. "It sounds mad, I know, but I've always been a superstitious man. I couldn't ignore it."

"No." Rowan laughed. "It makes complete sense. Did it say anything else?"

"Wait..." The man's voice trembled, and he fixed his eyes on something far off in the distance. "What's that?"

"What's what?" Rowan turned her head about to face where the man had pointed. And her heart dropped.

"Go." She commanded the man. "Get out of here as fast as possible and go home. Don't look back, don't try to fight. Go. Stay with your people." Alarm spiked every word, her form trembled with fear and anticipation, urgency spasmed in every feature, enough to make the man scramble to his feet.

Cassian stood with him, Rowan following. "Go!" The captain commanded, though he knew nothing of what was happening. "I'll come back for you. Survive for only a little longer."

The man nodded and turned away, stumbling through the shifting sands back the direction he had come as Rowan and Cassian turned to face the thing in question.

The sun framed its silhouette uncertainly against the simmering sand, but Rowan could make out its shape. Dreading that she might be right, she took a step forward. And another. It was racing across the desert planet at breakneck speed, and she no longer could doubt her eyes.

It was a manticore.

"Cassian, get K-2 down here as fast as possible." She commanded, yanking Luke's knife from her jacket pocket and flinging off the sheath so that it gleamed excitedly in the blazing sun. She slid the sheath into her backpack and slung it onto her back, eyes rarely leaving the manticore as it approached.

Cassian quickly radioed the command to K-2 and turned to Rowan. "What is it?" She didn't respond, so engrossed in her thoughts that she became unaware of all around her, all except the approaching danger on the horizon, both physically and metaphorically. This mission had become far more crucial than she could have ever anticipated and, around her, she felt all her stability crumbling in the face of what she now was aware of. Cassian was far more important than he had ever known.

She didn't answer his question, and seized by frustration, he gripped her shoulders, jerking her around to face him. Only when her eyes met his did he realize the earth-shattering fear that lay in them, and his own heart seemed to stop beating. "What is it?" It came out as a whisper this time, and she swallowed.

"It's- it's the monster. The one he was talking about. It's called a manticore." Some form of calm seeped into her expression when she beheld his steadfastly brown eyes, unwavering. "You need to get K-2 down here. I can't win this fight and blasters won't work against it. Just avoid the tail, okay?" She yanked her gaze away from his eyes and back to the creature. "You know what?" A bitter laugh left her lips. "Just stay away from all of him."

"What does it do?" His voice didn't falter, didn't break. All incredulity he had pushed aside, refusing to acknowledge it until it was absolutely necessary. Survival was now the most important task.

"Well... He sort of just... Kills," she answered. "He's built to kill. The tail has poisonous spikes that you need to avoid, and the rest of him is like a lion, if you know what that is. Whatever he says to you, don't listen. He's a deceiver. Most of his words are riddles, only to be interpreted afterward. If you listen to them or attempt to comprehend them immediately, you'll go mad," she explained. "Where's K?"

"Coming," Cassian returned. "What do you want me to do?"

"Um..." Rowan watched as the creature slowed to a jog, a little less than a hundred feet away. "Shoot the spikes from his tail out of the air-"

"Are you saying it _shoots spikes_?" Cassian interjected, alarm exploding in every word.

Rowan smirked. "I told you- it's built to kill. Now, bullets won't hurt him, but they'll deflect the spikes. Get a couple feet away and whatever you do- _don't die_." Her eyes met his in that moment, and urgency, coupled with extreme desperation, flashed in them.

Cassian nodded and stepped back, raising his blaster to the ready.

Rowan's muscles tensed when it reached them, but she calmly folded her hands behind her back, studying the creature. She was used to its form- the man face, the scorpion-like tail, the lion body. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the tail, but forced herself to focus on the face, meeting its eyes in the most brazen form of disrespect she could conjure.

"Strongblade is blade-less…," it mused, eyes fiery.

"I'm sorry- do I know you?" She turned with it as it began to circle her. She didn't notice Cassian's expression, concerned, focused, strong as he watched a conversation of such a strange and foreign nature unfold before him.

"Regrettably," the manticore answered. "You killed me. But I guess I have to thank you for starting the war with Gaea; without you, I wouldn't have been able to escape the Underworld."

"Ah." Rowan gave a dramatic, sarcastic bow, revealing both hands and the knife clutched in her fist. "In that case, you're welcome."

"Oh! You _do_ have a blade!" the manticore exclaimed, almost happily. "That wouldn't happen to be the blade of the recently-missed Luke Castellan, would it not?"

"Ah, wise as ever." Rowan nodded and backed away, eyes flicking involuntarily to Cassian, genuine worry in them. She had to lead the manticore away from him. The dream of the hungry man, who was now nowhere to be seen, had confirmed suspicions of her heart, if not her mind. Cassian needed to be protected. At all costs.

The manticore seemed to be reading her mind. "No need to protect the boy, Strongblade. He's not the one in danger," it snarled.

Rowan smirked past the fear in her heart. "Oh, so now _I'm_ the focus. How flattering. What a strange change of events."

"Don't worry." The manticore smiled maliciously. "We know who he is."

"We?" Rowan asked, warily watching his movements. "Is there a Mrs. Monster in the picture or...?" She trailed off, momentarily regretting the fact that she didn't have a better insult, but much of her mind was taken up with Cassian's safety.

"Pity you've run out of insults- your arrogance is amusing. But you've also run out of time." A snarl followed, and the manticore leapt forward, throwing himself at her.

Rowan ducked beneath him, dropping to the sand and rolling over just when he had cleared her. She shot to her feet and faced the creature, incredibly grateful to be between Cassian and the manticore.

"You didn't answer my question!" She shouted at the hideous face now turned to her. "Who is 'we'?"

"You don't know?" The manticore looked genuinely confused for a moment before it laughed. "The great Rowan Strongblade, daughter of Hades, doesn't know?"

Rowan shrugged, an apologetic look on her face. "I generally don't. Sorry to disappoint."

The manticore took her moment of relaxation to charge, this time staying on the ground. She leapt out of the way, rolling once again on the sands and standing, before noticing that one of its spikes was now headed directly for her face. But it exploded right before it would have killed her, and she looked at Cassian in surprise, relieved thankfulness filling her expression. He had not been idle.

The manticore also noticed the action and now began to advance toward Cassian, snarling proudly. Fear filled Rowan when she realized she was on the other side of the manticore. But Cassian stood tall, calm under pressure, smirking even. And, for a moment, Rowan found herself stunned.

But her attention immediately refocused on what was happening before her.

The manticore had begun to circle Cassian, eyes hard and sharp as it examined its prey. For his part, Cassian watched each movement of the beast intently.

"You, boy, put the weapon down." The manticore snarled. "Let me kill you while you can still die painlessly. For die you will. You first, and then the girl. I can promise that the others that come after me will be less merciful."

"What do you mean?" Confusion flickered in Cassian's eyes.

"You think you've survived his long on pure luck? Oh, no. No, you've been saved for much more important events. You're the catalyst. And you've finally come of age. Now we can kill you." The manticore launched himself at Cassian, but Rowan had been ready.

Just as he moved, she threw herself upon his leg and ripped a gash in the flesh. The manticore roared in anger and turned on her, but she had already backed away quickly, bloody knife in hand. Suddenly she heard a noise above her head and smirked. It was K-2. At last. Cassian's eyes met hers and they shared a moment of triumph. The manticore looked up in confusion at the noise, and all three watched the ship descend behind Cassian, the door slamming open as Cassian moved toward it.

"You won't get away!" The manticore roared, desperate and loud above the engines. Cassian turned back to him in amusement.

"Watch me." He challenged, and Rowan threw a fist into the air, laughing victoriously.

"I knew you'd catch on to the sass!" She shouted to Cassian, who laughed in turn.

But all joy was gone in a moment. Time moved in slow motion as the manticore flicked its tail, loosening a spike and sending it hurtling toward Cassian. Without thinking, Rowan found herself immersed in the world of shadows until she reappeared in the shadow of the ship, right in front of Cassian. She barely caught a glimpse of his stunned expression before the spike entered her gut, and her world exploded in fiery, devastating pain.

She felt herself sink back into Cassian's arms, heard his shout of alarm, and then knew no more.

\- - -

Luke barely had time to register the fear that stabbed his heart before the elevator door slid open, and his eyes came to rest upon the long hallway before him. And, immediately, he knew who 'they' were. Uneasiness settled into his gut as he stepped forward beneath the buzzing lights that glinted off the Stormtrooper armor. Already, his hands began to fumble behind his back as he hurriedly hid the note and searched for his only protection at the moment.

"Luke Castellan?" The question came through the head Stormtrooper's speaker, fuzzy and crackling, inhuman. Around him stood five other heavily armed Troopers.

Swallowing past the confusion at their knowledge of his last name, he nodded. The Stormtroopers moved to surround him, but already he had leapt into action. Beneath his shirt and tucked into the waistline of his trousers in the back, he kept a small blaster, no more than what would be a pistol on Earth, but enough to protect him.

The first shot felled the Trooper that had spoken, and the man hit the floor without so much as a cry of pain. Startled, the others barely comprehended they were under attack until three more had met their end and two remained. At that point, Luke had retreated to the elevator and slammed his floor number, hoping beyond hope that the elevator would close fast enough. It didn't, and the first bullet from the attacking Troopers grazed his forearm, sending a line of fire through his nervous system and causing an even harsher flow of adrenaline to course through his veins.

Thinking quickly, he ripped the note from his pocket, slid it through the blood that now soaked his arm and dropped it to the floor, hoping, praying that his neighbor would be waiting. And then he took off, leaping out of the elevator and charging through the Troopers, startling them once again. As he passed them, he slammed himself into one and launched his body into the other, throwing them to the floor before he regained his footing and shot off in the direction of the staircase. In his first days of living here, he'd sought out and located every exit on every floor in case something like this happened, knowing that he was not a registered citizen on any planet in this galaxy and, thus, would be prosecuted.

A shot glancing off the wall to his right was proof that the Troopers had gotten to their feet, crashing and clunking along the floor behind him. He, though, was not hindered by armor and fled from his pursuers quicker than they could anticipate. The thrill of the chase pulsed through his veins, each step at once jarring and invigorating with lungs powerfully inhaling and exhaling. He reached the door soon enough and threw his body against it so that it flew open and smashed into the wall beside it with a clang that echoed loudly.

And then he was stumbling up the stairs. Three floors. Three floors and he would either make it or die. Already, the bullets were crashing upon the walls, exploding and resounding loudly in his ears as his long legs scaled the steps five at a time. His breathing was ragged as he reached the top, the Stormtroopers far behind, falling over as their armor turned what once may have been agile into a blundering mess. But the door was ahead of Luke, and he reached it, yanking it open with all his might before bursting into the hall where he was met face to face with a sight that cause his heart to almost stop beating.

Before him stood ten more Stormtroopers, guns cocked and at the ready, aimed directly for him.

Luke froze, hands at his side, one gripping his blaster tightly, the other twitching as adrenaline continued to surge through his body, flooding his senses and drowning out any thought of the pain that came from his arm.

The door slammed open behind him, but he was moving now, and not of his own accord. He barely felt a hand grab his upper arm until he was being jerked into a room. The door slammed closed behind him, and his eyes adjusted to the dim light just as he heard the shouts of the Stormtroopers outside.

Before him stood his savior, the man who had warned him of the arrest, with a smirk across his usually tired face.

"C'mon mate," he said with a heavy Australian accent, "Let's get outta here."


	5. Four

She awoke in the moving ship to Cassian's head, turned away from her but close, as if he had been attempting to wake her. Confusion filled her. And then she remembered all that had happened, and she groaned, her wound aching.

At the noise, he looked back to her, startled, and she gave him a half-hearted smile.

"We thought you were dying!" His tone revealed the despair and anxiety in his heart, and he regretted it. To avoid her eyes, he turned back to K-2, who she assumed was in the cockpit, and called out some commands.

"Cassian." She said his name, trying hard not to laugh bitterly at the position she had found herself in. "Cassian!" She called again, forcing her voice to be stronger.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concern in every feature.

"Do I look okay?" The chuckle that followed hurt every atom in her body. She hated that, despite her own urgency, she could still hear the weariness and exhaustion in her voice. When Cassian opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off. "Cassian, don't talk- I need to explain something. What the manticore said back there is important, and I'll tell you about it later, but right now I can't afford that much breath. I'm going into a 'death trance', which is basically a coma, but it'll stop the poison from the spike from spre-"

Cassian interrupted her. "I took it out. Somehow."

A smile flashed across her face. "Tell me that story when I wake up. But the poison is still there. If I had the materials to get rid of it, I would explain it to you, but I used them all up a while ago and haven't been able to get anymore. Go to Coruscant. I know someone there that can help us both. He'll probably be waiting for you when you land. His name's Thanatos. He can heal me and, if another of my friends is there, they should be able to point you in the right direction of where you need to go."

"What do I do if he's not there?" Cassian asked urgently as her eyes began to flicker closed.

"He'll be there. He wouldn't miss this for the galaxy..." She trailed off, smirking. "I'm going now, Cassian. Find Thanatos." She met his eyes, surprised at the anguish she saw and amazed at the ball of tears in her own throat. "See ya, Andor." She whispered, and her eyes closed as her body shut down and her head came to rest on the duffel bag that Cassian had used as a makeshift pillow.

Cassian sat back on his heels, shaking his head and trying to rid himself of all the thoughts that threatened to drown out his sanity. All that the manticore said, all that Rowan had done, all that had happened raced through his head at a speed and complexity that hurt. A groan escaped his lips, and he rubbed his fingers across his forehead, still kneeling at Rowan's side, attempting to massage away his confusion. It didn't work.

He rose and made his way to the cockpit, questions branding themselves in his mind. _What had the manticore meant? What was a 'death trance'? How had Rowan been able to teleport? Why did she teleport to save him, a man she barely knew? Why was she so familiar with the concept of the man's dream? Why did the manticore call her "Strongblade"? Why had it called him "the catalyst"? Why did the food that Rowan claimed to heal produce madness in the men on Jakku? And why, oh why, did reality have to be so much more complicated than it was before?_

It was K-2 that jerked him out of the spiral of thoughts as he sat robotically in his seat in the cockpit.

"Cassian." At his name, the captain looked up suddenly to see K watching him. "Your questions will be answered. Just give it time. Rowan saved you- we can trust her. She'll answer your questions."

Cassian could only nod, doing his best to fix his attention on the dashboard before him. "Just get us to Coruscant."

K-2 nodded and moved to punch in some commands to the ship. "Setting course for Coruscant."

A silence ensued.

"Did she say where we were supposed to meet Thanatos?"

"No... She just said he would be waiting..."

"Very well."

There was more silence until, finally, they slowed from lightspeed to see Coruscant appear beneath them, a planet of industrial madness and dirt. This was, if he was honest, his least favorite planet to visit. He had spent many a mission here, stealing through the dusty streets and dark alleys. It was, in a word, disgusting. Dread filled his gut. The amount of assassins, drug lords and prostitutes in the city made him wary, and he knew that if Thanatos didn't show up, it would be impossible to find him.

While K-2 radioed in, Cassian hurried to the back, throwing any supplies he might need into a bag that he swung across his shoulder and readying himself for the jarring landing. All fever had decreased in Rowan, leaving a pale, corpse-like body behind, which he could only hope was the death trance in action. In a moment of instinct, he reached down and took hold of her wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but faint and weak. Fear filled him for her sake, though the expression on her face was unmistakeable. Despite the pale, hollow features, he could make out the small smile that represented peace on her lips. He had a feeling that she rarely got the chance to rest like this, even if it was as a result of a life- threatening wound.

"We're here." He whispered to her form, the words involuntarily falling from his mouth. "I'll keep you safe, I promise."

He turned back to K in the cockpit as he stood to his feet. "K, I hate to ask it if you, but will you stay with the ship?"

There was none of the customary sarcasm in the droid's voice when he responded. "I will. Get Rowan to safety, and stay safe."

Cassian nodded. "You too." And he reached down to lift Rowan's limp body into his arms as the door to the ship slid open to reveal the busy landing pad beneath the shadows of the tall skyscrapers. There was no goodbye between the droid and the captain as he left the ship, only a profound silence and an unspoken fear.

As his feet hit the ground, he muttered beneath his breath to Rowan. "Hold on. Hold on. You're almost safe."

As if in response, Rowan's head rolled so that it rested gently on his shoulder, but Cassian was not comforted.

Rowan's world was still black.

\- - -

It took Luke a moment to comprehend what had happened as he watched the man before him, probably two heads shorter than him, almost comedic with his accent and bright eyes. From Luke's height, he looked like how he would have imagined Tom Bombadil or the Gaffer from _The Lord of the Rings_, but the thought was quickly shoved from his mind as he felt a pang in his heart.

Behind him, there was the sound of a body slamming into the door, and he jumped, moving forward and turning to face the noise. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see the man again, gesturing wildly at the window.

"What about my stuff?" Luke protested, resisting the man.

"I can get it for you- just come with me, mate; we gotta go!" There was one final tug, and Luke was following him to the window. Together, they hefted it open as it protested on squeaky hinges, as if it was angry with such disobedience to its owners. But it was open soon enough and the pair looked down into the street below. Still, there was little action, nothing more than a few drunks lying upon their benches, covered with what jackets they had.

The drop to the ground was the only impossibly difficult task.

"What now?" Luke asked, giving the man a harshly sarcastic look out of the corner of his eye.

The man simply chuckled. "You'll see. Follow me."

And he climbed onto the sill. Luke watched as he felt along the wall to the right, all too aware of the loud crashes that came from the hall. The door wouldn't hold out for much longer. And then the man disappeared, swinging himself onto what appeared to be a ladder leading to the roof, something Luke had never noticed before. Fear spiked in his chest as he heard the door budge with the next crash, but even as the door was flung open and Stormtroopers flooded the room, he had disappeared.

The open air seemed to increase in violence as Luke clung, terrified, to the ladder. Each gust of wind was not just a breeze, but a hurricane's roars, tearing at his clothes and hair and spraying blinding dust from the city streets into his eyes. But the thirst for life, the thirst for escape, filled him, and he climbed. They struggled far, ascending high, high above the city and into the gloriously free air of the morning. Luke lost count of the amount of floors they had scaled, all awareness of the world about him fading into the itching pain of his palms and the burning of his legs. He didn't dare look behind, didn't dare attempt to discover whether they were being followed or not.

But finally, _finally_, they reached the top and stood upon the building's roof, the morning breeze all about them, their hair ruffled in the gentle winds. Suddenly an intoxicating freedom filled his soul as he looked out over the buildings of the planet, seeing the sky for the first time in years. His heart ached with joy, pierced and wounded to the core with incandescent beauty. A sigh escaped him, and a voice beside him made him aware of the man who had saved him.

"It's a pretty sight, isn't it?" The man stated, looking out with Luke.

The hazy morning fog had been dyed pink by the newborn sun, glinting kindly off the glass windows of the tall buildings. It looked like something he might have seen outside the window of a plane, looking down upon New York. And, though he was reluctant to agree, it _was_ a "pretty sight".

"Kind of makes you forget what it's really like down there, doesn't it?" The man asked again, and Luke nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

"Who are you?" He asked, clearing his throat and looking down at his companion, whose pockmarked face was turned a ruddy red by the sunrise.

"Hestia told me to follow you. I'm a satyr." Luke's eyes hardened, and the man raised his hands in surrender, a smirk flashing across his face. "Don't blame me. I know what you want- you want freedom from your past, and you're willing to do anything to get it. But Hestia agreed with me- you don't need to throw yourself into a thousand dangers just to get that. Just because she's provided a way to mask all signs of being a demigod doesn't mean you aren't one. And the most powerful of monsters will still find you."

"And why would the most powerful of monsters be here looking for me?" Luke neglected to mask the scorn in his voice.

"This galaxy is not free from its own unnatural inhabitants. Thanatos himself is in this city. Along with Morpheus, who, though exiled from the Council, also seeks what you look for." The satyr answered, smiling knowingly.

"Where are we going?" Luke asked, forcing his mind off the regret that broiled beneath the surface.

"To a safer place. Takodana." The satyr answered. "Something's happening in this galaxy and we need to find out what. Hopefully, we can get information there."

The satyr set off to the other end of the building, but Luke turned about to face him, annoyance and alarm in his eyes.

"What?! No! No, I'm not getting involved in another war! I know all about the whole Rebel vs. Empire thing and I don't wanna get involved. It's not my fight." He protested, eyes flashing.

"This doesn't have to do with the Empire." The satyr's voice was deadly calm. "Kronos is up to something. We don't know what, but it involves this galaxy."

Luke's heart dropped to his stomach. "Why do you think I should fight?" His voice was low, suppressing years of emotion and pain.

"Because you have a shot at redemption here, if you don't think you've already won it through the love of your sister. She's desperate, Luke. Very, very desperate to get to you."

"What does that mean?"

"She's here, in this galaxy, looking for you. And she's wanted by the Empire for countless crimes. The last update I heard about her was that she had been captured by the Rebellion. She's looking for you, Luke."


	6. Five

Rowan awoke to a white that permeated every fiber of her being, blinding and blotting out every other color that her irises might have known. And, when she was finally strong enough to open her eyes, a spike of pain went through her brain. It took a good minute or so for her eyes to adjust, revealing the hospital room she lay in.

It was simple; a table sat beside her bed, loaded down with ambrosia and nectar while on the other side was a chair that held her clothes, folded neatly beside a hairbrush, making her aware of the hospital gown that rested on her weak figure. The only strange aspect was the couch that had been placed in a corner near the door. Upon it lay a sleeping figure, snoring slightly, that the light revealed to be Cassian. Rowan resisted the urge to laugh at his figure, balled up and sweet, childish, almost. He hadn't changed, though his jacket lay by the side of the couch, a messy bundle on the floor.

Smiling, Rowan's eyes moved from his form across the room, coming to rest on a large window that took up the entirety of the wall to her left. Curiosity got the better of her, and she moved to stand, but groaned as remnants of the pain of her wound traveled through her body, irrepressible aches that weakened her resolve. But she pushed forward and was soon sitting, her feet dangling over the edge, barely touching the cold tile floor.

There was a deep, shuddering breath before she slowly slid to the floor, landing gently on her toes before rolling her weight so that she tenderly came to stand on flat feet. Weakness beset her limbs, and she stumbled a little, catching herself with the chair and sighing in relief. She was not as injured as she thought, which was more comforting than words could convey.

Her steps shuffled to the window before her, like a child relearning the art of walking, and she looked down through the glass, slightly grimy with the city's atmosphere, to a small courtyard below. In it was a group of four or five children, playing some variation of soccer with a black rubber ball. They chased each other back and forth, hurtling past droids that desperately attempted to keep up. She couldn't help but start to chuckle when the droids got really frustrated, zipping along after their charges with angrily flashing lights.

A grunt from behind her alerted her of the noise that had escaped her lips, and she whipped around, her white hospital gown fluttering in her movements. It was Cassian who had made the noise, but his eyes were still shut tight, and she took the moment to examine him, her eyes drawn to his features in a strange pull of will. He was certainly handsome, in a rugged, tortured way. But a frown had formed upon her lips. She understood the barriers that lay between them, even if he was who she thought he was.

And she forced herself to turn back to the window, determinedly watching the children, though her fascination with the sight had somewhat dulled, and her eyes were now far away.

Minutes passed until a cough sounded behind her, and she turned quickly, back to face Cassian, who now sat up, running a hand through messy hair and staring at his feet.

"G'mornin', sunshine." She greeted and choked immediately after, the laugh dying in her parched throat.

Cassian's head shot up, startled, before he stood and hurried to a cabinet above the table that she hadn't noticed before. In it, he quickly found a water bottle and walked quietly to where she stood, handing it to her. She took it gratefully and swallowed a few mouthfuls before looking back to him.

"Good morning." He finally responded, an attempted smirk on his features.

"Took you long enough to wake up." She joked. "I was having a whole lot of fun."

"At least I didn't take three days to." He returned, turning away and moving back to the couch so that she couldn't read his expression until he had picked up his jacket and begun to slide it on. It was a tired smile, amused and concerned.

Rowan's mouth dropped open. "_Three days_?"

"Three days." He confirmed, nodding.

"How- _why_ did it take that long?" Rowan desperately searched for an answer in her mind, going over the dozens of ways her healing time could have been affected.

"Thanatos said it was sleep deprivation." Cassian answered, a question in his eyes.

Rowan gave a half-hearted laugh. "Oh."

"It's alright; I get it." Cassian returned, his eyes unreadable.

"Well," Rowan laughed. "Thank you?"

Cassian opened his mouth to speak, but just at that moment, the door flew open beside him, and a man swept in. He was tall, stately, proud, dignity and nobility written into his Roman features and pale skin about his pale blue eyes. His hair was shock white and a small goatee decked his chin above deep robes of an undefinable color. It seemed black, but a second glance would reveal it to be multicolored and shimmering.

"Morpheus." The name fell from Rowan's lips like a deadweight. "What're you doing here?" The question was sharper than she intended.

"The same thing your brother is." Was the answer in a voice deep, sonorous and tinged with panic before he beckoned them to follow him. "Follow me." He gestured to the chair that held Rowan's clothes. "And take those."

And, just as quickly as he entered, he had left, and Cassian found himself jogging to keep up with Rowan, who held her clothes to her chest in an attempt to keep from dropping her shoes. They raced along the hall till Morpheus reached a massive pair of double doors, black as night and just as intimidating. Golden handles, elaborate and old, sat upon the faces of the doors, and Morpheus took them in hand, pushing them open with powerful muscles to reveal a room that was breathtaking.

It was huge, with walls and pillars made of obsidian that reached high above their heads to a domed roof. Or, what Cassian assumed to be the roof, for the area was wreathed in a haze of purple and blue vapor that seemed to twist and writhe about like a snake. His mouth fell open in an 'o' as Rowan came up to stand beside him.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Was her comment before moving into the room.

Cassian looked at her incredulously, amazed at her apparent apathy toward the wonder of her surroundings. Did this not confuse her? And then he remembered the way she had teleported and all the strange things that orbited about her- her weapons, her comments, her understanding. It all connected in his mind, and he whispered to her as she stood, facing him and waiting for him to follow.

"Is he one of the powerful creatures you were talking about?" He asked.

Rowan's smile was immensely proud and excited as she bit her lip and nodded. "Welcome to my world." It was a mutter: shy, reserved, almost scared, but totally, _totally_ enthusiastic. Cassian couldn't help but smile.

It was Morpheus who interrupted the moment. "Rowan. We need to talk."

Rowan turned, laughing. "Last time you said that, I almost died."

Morpheus had seated himself in a large obsidian throne, his unreadable eyes watching the two. Before him sat a large slab of black marble that served as a table, stacked high with scrolls and books. With a wave of his hand, the mess obeyed, rising into the air and floating a ways away till it came to rest in the shadow of a pillar.

"How are you not a Jedi?" The question fell from Cassian's mouth before he could stop it.

Morpheus smiled pleasantly, kindness crinkling about the corners of his eyes. "I know you, Cassian Andor. I've seen your dreams, and I know what you long for. Freedom- if not from the Empire, then from your mind- and belonging and victory. I believe you will find the first two go hand-in-hand. As for victory, the future is clouded. Not even the Great Ones can predict it. But, no, I am more than a Jedi."

"Then what are you?" Cassian stepped forward, eyes narrowed and suspicious. Behind him, Rowan smiled amusedly and admiringly. His courage was commendable.

"I am Morpheus, the god of dreams." And the god held out his hands dramatically, settling further into his throne.

Rowan was now watching the god intently, eyes knit together in concern, so she missed Cassian's next question.

"Rowan, what does he mean?" Cassian's voice was almost scared, uncomfortable in this new territory. A moment passed as she ripped her attention back to Cassian, meeting his eyes. The calm of the brown anchored her to reality, and she shrugged, adjusting the clothes that she hugged to her chest.

"I prefer the term powerful creature. 'God' implies a power that they don't possess." She answered, moving forward so that her palms came to rest on the cold surface of the table, laying down the clothes.

"Audacious as ever- touching the face of a god's table without permission." Morpheus smirked.

"You owe me one." The response was sharp, commanding. "What did you wanna talk about? And can I sit? My legs are still weak," she added.

"You never would have said that in the presence of an enemy." Morpheus shot her a confused look out of the corner of his eyes as he beckoned down a long corridor Cassian hadn't noticed yet, and two chairs came floating to a rest before the table.

"I see no enemies here." Rowan responded, before turning back to Cassian as she sat. "Cassian." She stated, jerking him out of his confused stupor. "You can sit." An uncommon kindness had touched her voice, and she looked upon him with pity and compassion. This would be the shock of his life.

The captain slid into the seat on Rowan's right, trying to suppress the confusion and disbelief that crowded his senses. _Was he losing his mind?_ The room seemed real enough, the man and Rowan were in no way deceptions of his reason. But the man's sheer power threw him off. He knew of the Jedi, but this was something completely different and the man- the god- had an air of history that filled him with both dread and excitement.

"Take it in slowly." Rowan muttered beneath her breath to him, and he shot her a half-hearted smile.

"You see no enemies here and yet you were more than a little angry when I arrived. And I didn't _intend_ for you to risk your life." Morpheus responded to Rowan's last comment.

Cassian was utterly confused at the dialogue exchanged between Rowan and Morpheus, eyes flitting from one to the other as they spoke.

"I almost died on the mission you sent me on, Morpheus. I have a right to be a little annoyed."

"But was it a success?"

Rowan's smile was bright in contrast to the god's uncertainty. "Yes, it was. She's safe."

"And?" Morpheus seemed to breathe a little easier.

"She looks just like you."

"Her mother?"

"Safe."

"Where are they?"

"New Rome." Rowan answered. "It was the only place I could guarantee them safety." She frowned. "But they miss you. A lot."

"But they're safe." Morpheus signed in relief. "Good. Rowan, they must know that I can never come back. I was banished from Earth after the war. Since then, I've been hiding here."

"I understand that." Rowan shrugged. "I'm researching ways to get them here."

"You would do that?" Morpheus suddenly leaned forward, all sorrow in his eyes replaced with deep hope.

"But that's not all you wanted to talk about, is it?" Rowan asked, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms over her stomach. Cassian noticed the position was very much the one she'd maintained when being interrogated by the Senator.

"Do you know what's going on in the galaxy right now?" Morpheus asked, his eyes flicking between the two of them like a cat's.

"We had a..." Rowan glanced at Cassian, a rush of concern racing through her heart, "Run-in with a manticore on Jakku. That's why I was injured. He spoke to Cassian." She looked over to Cassian, watching him as he spoke the words that had haunted him for the past few days.

"He said something about how I was the 'catalyst' and how I hadn't survived this long on my own- I'd been saved for now, when I was of age. He referred to a group of people, but Rowan and I don't know who 'they' are." Cassian's mind replayed the scene: the hungry, malicious face circling him, a look insatiable blood-thirst in its features. He suppressed the shudder that threatened to break loose.

Rowan fought herself to turn to face Morpheus as he spoke, struggling to look from Cassian to the god. When she did, she saw a look of utter compassion on his face, and she was touched.

"You _are_ the catalyst." Morpheus suddenly looked at Rowan. "You will remember that I referred to the two of you as 'the future' in the dream of the man who met you on Jakku. Much lies on your shoulders, but Cassian, I regret to say that even more will rest upon you than upon Rowan." The god had turned back to face the captain.

"What do you mean?" Cassian resisted the urge to reveal the irritation in his voice. All he wanted was a clear explanation.

"Do you know anything of the Ancient Greeks and Romans?" Morpheus countered the question with one of his own.

"No."

"Very well. It's a lot to explain, but once you know, you will understand what I speak of. Rowan, there is a small room to your right- you may change there. Cassian, I'm going to put you to sleep. You will dream of what you need to know and remember it by the time you wake."

Rowan stood, grabbing her clothes and moving to the door, before she turned around and faced Cassian, who watched her closely. "It's okay, Andor- you can trust him." She said simply and finished the journey to the room, slipping in through the door, closing it softly behind her as her heart panged for Cassian and the earth-shattering truth he was about to discover.

It took her a moment to realize that the clothes that had been given to her were not her actual clothes. Morpheus- or Thanatos, she didn't know whom- had given her black skinny jeans instead of her briefs and the shirt, which was once a U2 shirt, now bore the NASA logo and she smirked. It was fitting. The boots were black, too, elven in their shape and matching the rest of the outfit, but the jacket had disappeared, and she could only hope it had been left behind in the ship.

She exited the room bucking on her blaster holster and belt, reminding herself to ask Cassian for a new blaster once they reached the ship. When she looked up, she saw that Cassian was still asleep, head resting on folded arms on the table, his features calm and at rest, relaxed in a way she'd never seen them before. A small, unexplainable smile touched her lips before she moved her eyes to Morpheus, who sat, watching the captain.

"I have a feeling he needs the sleep more than the information." Morpheus said suddenly, causing Rowan to start before she realized the god didn't need much concentration to use his power.

"So do I." Rowan nodded.

A silence ensued, and Rowan couldn't stop her eyes from falling back to Cassian's form, his back rising and falling, at peace. She could see his spine through his clothes and, for some reason, the detail stuck out to her. She didn't know why.

It was Morpheus who spoke again, breaking her from her reverie. "How do you feel about him?"

"Hm?" Rowan jerked her head up to face him. He was gesturing to Cassian, a smile on his face. "I don't know. I pity him, I guess. His life's probably hard enough without all this happening."

"And you know what's happening?"

"No. No, I don't, but I can guess. He's the son of-"

"Kronos, yes." Morpheus interrupted her. "If he dies, Kronos has a body to inhabit. He runs the same risk that Luke does even now. Since his body held Kronos for so long, he has simply to die and Kronos will return to his vessel."

Rowan nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat, past the image of Luke dying. "Have- have you seen Luke? Do you know where he is?" The questions were weak, slow, faltering, despairing.

"No, I haven't seen him. He is hidden from my sight," Morpheus answered, watching Rowan with eyes overflowing with compassion. She simply lowered her eyes to the floor. "How long have you been searching?"

Rowan shrugged. "Ever since I got back from fighting Gaea."

"I'm sorry." Morpheus offered, but Rowan waved it away, giving a half-hearted smirk, an attempt to return to the joviality she did her best to maintain.

"Not your fault." She shrugged and met his eyes.

"Cassian and Luke, if you ever find him, will get along well. Luke will need the companionship."

Rowan was silent, decidedly watching the captain instead of answering. To open her mouth would be to let out years of loneliness and pain. She refused to allow herself that.

"Thank you," she said finally. "For the shirt."

Morpheus seemed relieved. "Oh, good. You like it?"

Rowan looked up, an attempted smile on her face. "Yeah. I like it."

"You're probably wondering why I gave you jeans instead of your usual pants?" It was a question. She nodded in response. "To be perfectly honest, it's because you look good in them. And I'm tired of seeing you single. If you want to survive the rest of your life mentally and emotionally, you're going to need someone to help you get through."

Rowan shot him an annoyed look, partially because she knew he spoke the truth. "I can't. You _know_ I can't."

"And why can't you?"

Rowan fumbled for an answer. "Because- because I'm too busy. Because they would probably just end up dying. Because- because-"

Morpheus cut her off. "Because you're scared of your emotions. You're terrified of intimacy and what it may mean to open up about anything resembling something other than platonic love, am I right?"

"Yes..." Rowan's voice was a reluctant whine.

"Well, I think our friend has had enough of a history lesson today." Morpheus turned back to Cassian and waved his hand above the man's head.

There was a sigh and a slight movement of his head before his eyes slid open, and he sat up, slowly, tiredly, rubbing his eyes. A small smile flashed over Rowan's lips. His calm would not last for long.

And it didn't. His eyes shot open, and they met Morpheus', the pale blue drilling into his deep brown. The captain's face had lost its usual calm, replaced with a panic and confusion Rowan had never seen before. He stumbled to his feet, pushing himself away from the table like a hunted deer. Rowan moved to comfort him, but the look he shot her was one that stifled her actions. He looked caged, terrified, haggard, as if his whole world had come crashing down around him. It had.

It took him a few minutes to gain control of himself as he paced back and forth, running a hand through his hair, staring at the floor with wild eyes.

Finally, his movements stilled, and he froze, hands still tangled on the top of his head, eyes still boring into the stone floor. "Is this- is all this true?" He muttered, the words barely audible.

Rowan nodded, searching for her voice. "Yes." Her answer was low, quiet.

"I- I-" His words stumbled about in his brain, bumping into each other, tripping over each thought. Everything he'd known- most everything he'd ever known- was a lie.

"Cassian, if it helps, this doesn't change your reality." Rowan's voice broke through his reverie, and he met her eyes. "It just adds another layer to it. Look around you, mate. What you know is still the truth. Trees still grow, water still flows, K-2 is still sarcastic as heck-" Cassian chuckled a little at this, bringing joy to Rowan, "-it's just that the _cause_ behind most of that has changed. The Greek and Roman gods didn't _create_ all that, so don't worry about it, they just heavily influence it. Most of what you know is still correct."

Cassian's hands lowered from his head, hanging limply, twitching in panic. Involuntarily, Rowan moved forward, grabbing his hands to still their movements, panic stabbing her chest at the sight of his own. Cassian simply watched the contact, no emotion flickering to life in his eyes. Morpheus watched, a small, knowing smile touching his lips.

"Am I..." Cassian searched for the right words. "Am I a demigod?"

"No." Rowan shook her head, stepping back and letting go of his hands, which had finally calmed. The cold air met them, and Cassian resisted the urge to shiver. "You're not. You're a demi-titan."

"What- what does that mean?" Rowan was relieved to hear the strength returning to his voice.

"You're the son of Kronos, which is why you're being hunted more than anyone else. If you're killed, the part of you that shares Kronos's blood will live on and provide him a foothold in this world. He'll possess you the way he possessed Luke- only you'll be dead. From there, he can slowly gain power until he's restored to his original strength. Or, as close to it as he can get."

Cassian stumbled in surprise, horror flashing across his face. Rowan jumped to catch him, pulling him into the warmest hug she could conjure, hoping beyond hope she could restore him to calm. He held tightly to her, clinging to one of the few things he understood in the room, desperately trying to comprehend what was happening. His body was firm against her own, and she found herself enjoying the hug more than she should have, the warmth of his limbs comforting her. The last person she'd hugged had been Luke. Both, it seemed, were reluctant to let go, only releasing the hold two minutes after it began. Rowan stepped back and looked him in the eyes, gently and compassionately.

"You good, Andor?" She asked softly.

"It's a lot." He gave a half-hearted smirk. "It's a lot."

"That it is." Morpheus spoke, and both turned to face him. "But you don't have much time to process it. Cassian, you're in danger. The monsters that escaped during the war against Gaea came here, where they massed together. They want to rule again. Power and a need for prey drives them. Should Kronos return, they would be able to fully unite and destroy all that is good in this galaxy and on Earth."

"So what do I do?" Cassian looked from Rowan to Morpheus, determination etched into his features. Rowan couldn't help but be proud.

Morpheus' face was grave. "You survive."

"Would there be a way to protect him indefinitely- keep him safe without constantly watching our backs?" Rowan asked and Cassian's eyes followed her as she stepped toward Morpheus, surprised at the intensity of the sparkling in her eyes.

"For the rest of his life?" Morpheus asked, confused. "Maybe if you could destroy their leadership. But I don't think Kronos is the main problem here, Rowan." His voice took on a tone that made Rowan's heart drop to her stomach.

"Wh- what?" She stuttered, confused.

"Something's happening on Earth. I don't know what, but my powers have been weakening, and my contact with your father ceased two weeks ago. He generally checked in with me every week to ask of your whereabouts, but he hasn't in a long time. But more than this, there is some unnamed dread in my heart- some fear of ages past. As soon as this mission with Cassian is over, you must go back home." Morpheus answered, and Cassian felt the alarm radiating off of the two. "Until then, you will need protection. Cassian! Come forward."

He gestured to the captain, and he approached the table with somewhat unsteady feet. Morpheus waved his hand above the surface, and on it appeared a pile of weapons.

"For you, I have Celestial Bronze blaster bullets. They'll be effective on any monster or demigod you meet, but not mortals. I would have given you a more traditional weapon, but you will not have time to learn it. Thus, I've settled on a Celestial Bronze knife. By now, you've most likely seen Rowan's- or, Luke's, forgive me. His is far more ancient than this one, so it is less easy to wield. Know that if you must transition from this one to that."

Cassian nodded gratefully and respectfully, taking the weapons with gentle hands and retreating to stand beside Rowan, where he strapped the knife to his hip in its sheath.

"And you, Rowan." Morpheus beckoned to her.

She raised an eyebrow and moved forward. "I already have a weapon." She stated. "I'm good without any more."

A smile flashed over Morpheus' face. "This isn't from me."

"Wait, what?" She asked, confused, but her next words died in her throat as she beheld that gift that was handed to her.

Morpheus held out a sword of a strange shape. It was a single-edged sword, essentially a curved backsword. With a hand-and-a-half hilt, it looked a lot like a Japanese Katana, except that the hilt seemed to meld with the blade, the only differentiation point being a small projection of the blade itself like a sloped pyramid on the edge. All along the back edge, there were runes carved in a long line, runes of protection and awareness. The grip was wrapped in black leather, tight and clean. It was only after his eyes had roved up and down the blade, did Cassian realize what made it truly mysterious. It was black, though not fully... _human_, was the best word he could come up with- a dark, dark grey that seemed misty and uncertain yet all too solid, more solid, even, than the knife now belted to his hip.

"Is that...?" Rowan trailed off, her breath taken away as Morpheus gently slid the weapon into her hands.

"Yes." Morpheus smiled, laughter in his eyes. "The blade is of Stygian Iron, which is why it is yours, daughter of Hades."

"Who- who's it from?" Rowan's eyes took in the beauty of it slowly, breathlessly.

"Your father." Morpheus answered as Rowan grasped the hilt with both hands, holding it up in the light.

For a second, the image suddenly branded itself into Cassian's mind. She and the sword belonged together. It fit to her, was made for her. It seemed as if the dark glow that came from it grew stronger as her hands held the hilt, the blade reaching high above her head. And then he noticed the tear that had traced a line down her cheek, taken aback by the emotion she seemed to work hard to hide.

A small, joyful laugh left her lips. "My father?" She asked quietly.

"Your father." Morpheus confirmed. "He misses you, Rowan. The blade comes in his place, a reminder of who you are, where you come from and where you will go."

"Thank you, Morpheus." Rowan smiled, practically glowing. Cassian resisted the urge to laugh for her.

"Don't thank me. You need to go." Morpheus' kindness was replaced with urgency. "The information you're looking for will be found at a trading post on the Ring of Kafrene. Your agent is waiting for you. Rowan, one last thing about your sword. If you say the word 'kontá', the sword will transform into a ring large enough to fit on your pinky finger. Say 'éla' and it will return to its former shape. It will only obey the commands of your voice."

"One last thing, Morpheus-" Cassian stated as Rowan transformed her sword into a small gold band inlaid with black stones and slid it upon her pinky.

"Yes, Cassian?"

"If- if I'm the child of Kronos- does that mean I have the potential to become like him? What if I lose control of myself? What- what if-" Cassian stuttered, his voice uncertain, before Morpheus cut him off.

"Cassian- every demigod or demi-titan has to deal with their ancestry. Your struggle, I believe, will not take the form of murderous rages you must deal with. And your fear of that proves that you will not be like your father."

The flickering panic in Cassian's eyes faded, and he nodded, muttering a 'thank you'.

"Now, go!" Morpheus rose from his throne, striding to the double doors and pulling them open with powerful arms. "Cassian, Thanatos has your bag. Instruct K-2 to land on the landing pad above this hospital. Go, my children. And I wish you the best of luck. May death never stop you."

Rowan laughed at this, throwing back her head as the adrenaline of adventure flooded through her once again. Cassian smirked at this, and then they were flying through the halls, sprinting to the hospital- like doors at the end.

They pushed through them to reveal a waiting room, packed to the brim with people. Rowan led Cassian to a man in a seat across the room, dark-skinned and muscular with golden rings at the end of his braids and obviously golden eyes that glinted in the lights hanging from the ceiling. He was the only truly magnificent inhabitant of the shabby room. When they reached him, he smiled, revealing perfect teeth that shone white.

Cassian immediately recognized him as the man who had greeted him at the landing pad and they nodded their greetings. Rowan, on the other hand, was less calm and gave the man a hug as he stood, laughingly expressing her joy to see him. Taking this moment to escape the conversation, Cassian radioed to K-2, indicating which landing pad to arrive at and what to do.

When Cassian re-entered the conversation, Thanatos was gesturing to their weapons.

"I see you've already run into Morpheus." He stated as he handed Cassian his bag. The captain slid it onto his back, muttering to Rowan that K-2 was on the way. She nodded, indicating she understood. "I, also, have gifts for you. Here."

From his suit pocket, he withdrew two necklaces with rectangular pendants, silver and light, and in turn, Cassian and Rowan inclined their heads respectfully as Thanatos slipped the chain about their necks.

"The pendant will grow heavier when the wearer of its partner is in danger. They will not be much, I fear, but they will reduce needless worry. I hope the two of you are never separated. You both carry much of the future with your fates. Now go- I believe your droid has arrived." And he pushed the two toward a stairwell to their right. "And keep in mind that the people of this galaxy are not affected by the Mist!" He called after them, but when Rowan turned, intending to wave farewell, he was gone. No one in the waiting room seemed aware of his sudden absence.

"Well," Cassian tapped his pendant, a smirk passing over his lips, "I guess that means we're partners."

"Guess so." Rowan shrugged. "Well, that visit was emotional. You ready, Andor?" She asked, amusement passing over her face.

Cassian knit his eyebrows together momentarily before shrugging it off and smirking. "Let's go."

And they hurried to the stairwell, up the echoing stairs, and out onto a landing pad touched by the afternoon sun. Waiting for them was K-2, and if the droid's face could have had an expression, it would have been irritated on a level the two would never have been able to pacify.

"I'm tempted to make you wait three _more_ days out here," were the droid's greeting words.

"I'm sorry, K; Rowan took longer to heal than we expected." Cassian attempted to apologize.

"Oh, I'm sure she did and I don't blame her. But three days, Cassian, _three days_. You could have died, and I would have had to stay in that ship the rest of eternity, bored out of my circuits and wishing I could go home." K-2 returned, stepping into the ship.

"I'm sorry, K!" Cassian shouted after the droid, scrambling to follow him into the ship. "If it helps, I learned some more about the... universe, if that's the right term." He looked questioningly at Rowan, gripping her hand and pulling her in.

"I'd go with reality." Rowan nodded, closing the door behind her so that they were immersed in the customary light of the U-Wing.

"Did you learn how _not_ to leave your droid behind?" K returned, sliding into his position at the cockpit.

Rowan laughed as Cassian dropped his bag on the floor beside the pile of belongings in the back and hurried past Rowan to his seat.

"You seemed perfectly willing when I left." Cassian sighed, slipping into his pilot's jacket and headset before seating himself beside K-2, who shot him a strangely expressive look for being a robot.

"That's because Rowan was in danger." The droid said matter-of-factly. "How are you feeling, Rowan? I also put your knife with your bags, if you're looking for it."

Rowan chuckled, lowering herself into a seat. "Thanks. And I'm feeling wonderful, thank you. How are you, K?"

"See, Rowan cares about how I feel." K-2 gestured over his shoulder to her. "I'm feeling fine, thanks."

Cassian rolled his eyes, glancing at Rowan before he punched in their destination.

"Oh, and another thing- how'd you get new weapons?" K asked, and Cassian's mood noticeably changed. The uncertainty from before flickered to life in his eyes, touched with slight shame.

"I'll explain it to you when we're in hyperspace." He answered simply, nodded to K-2, and the ship took off, rising high above the planet-wide city.


	7. Six

It was the moving ship that woke Luke from his nap, a jerk causing his head to smack against the wall behind him. A groan escaped his lips, and he stumbled to his feet, the unsteady ship rocking his balance. Finally, he was fully up, hand placed against the wall so he was steady. The ship was an Imperial U-Wing that Clover, the satyr, had stolen. In the past three days, he'd come to know the satyr better and, despite his relation to Grover Underwood, he'd found the satyr to be vastly different. Where Grover was timid and scared, Clover was daring, reckless and almost insane, punctuating every fierce statement with a good-natured "mate".

Luke had to admit that this was probably one of the strangest experiences of his life. From being almost arrested, to escaping with the help of a satyr, to waiting in a closet for a day for Clover to retrieve his belongings, to living in said closet with a satyr for yet another day, to stealing an Imperial ship and sailing off to who-knows-where with a satyr, he'd lived through much that he didn't think himself capable of even imagining.

And yet here he was, rubbing his sore head, looking about the U-Wing's floor, wishing he had some form of Advil. The satyr insisted on singing "Living on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi over and over again, though he only knew the chorus. It was only through extreme exhaustion was Luke able to sleep through the screeching voice that threatened to rip open his eardrums.

Clover graciously took a break from his musical enjoyment to greet Luke's conscious form. "G'mornin', mate? How are ya doin'?" Came the shout.

Luke flinched at the volume, but nodded. "Fine. You?"

"Pretty good, mate, thanks." The response led to a moment of silence as Luke moved to his bag, sifting through it to look for any form of a painkiller he could find and desperately attempting to keep his eyes away from Backbiter, gleaming in the light maliciously.

His search was unsuccessful, and sighing, he lowered himself into a seat, rubbing his aching forehead. He didn't know whether it was the satyr's singing, the bumpy ride, or the fact that Rowan was looking for him, but something was pounding in his brain.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, mate?" Clover asked suddenly, his voice carrying loudly from the cockpit.

"Food." Luke shot back, but the silence that followed was unbearable. "What did you mean about Rowan being here?" He asked suddenly, looking up toward the pilot's seat. All he could see from here was a mess of curly brown hair and two small horns barely sticking out the top of his head.

"Exactly what I said." Clover responded, his voice never losing its joviality. "She went looking for you. But she's involved with the Rebellion now. She's safe, I believe. I haven't received a report from Morpheus in a week, though."

"Why didn't you tell me beforehand?" Luke asked, his head straightening so that he watched the satyr, as if he could see through his skull into his brain.

"Would you have listened?" The satyr countered. "Generally it takes a near-death experience to accept the truth. Your sister loves you. _You_ are loved. Your past doesn't matter. None of your mistakes matter. The love of anyone, even your sister, is enough to make that void. If she was willing to give up everything she had on Earth to come find you, to come bring you home, then obviously whatever you did is of no consequence."

"No- it is. I still was the cause of-" Luke's protests died in his throat as he struggled to maintain the revulsion building in his gut. Images he strained to avoid began to bubble to the surface. He shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of everything in his brain. But it only increased his headache, and he groaned, rubbing his temples.

"Whatever you caused is unimportant now, Luke. It was _you_ who defeated Kronos in the end, anyway. Not Percy, not Annabeth, not even Rowan- it was you. If nothing else has influence over your thoughts, then focus on that at least."

Luke had no response and elected to remain silent. Clover seemed okay with this decision, for he didn't press the conversation and abstained from making the silence awkward, beginning to hum some undefinable tune. A good hour passed like this, Luke's mind occupied with a strange urging in his heart, a longing that refused to leave him, but his reverie was broken by the satyr.

"We're here, mate." And they pulled out of lightspeed, sailing over a huge lake, past a large, stone castle before they settled into the sand of the lake's shores.

Clover stood, sliding past Luke to the baggage that littered the floor of the U-Wing and hefting a duffle onto his shoulder. Luke did the same, slipping one strap of his backpack onto his back and grasping the hilt of Backbiter in hard, cold hands before they made their exit out of the ship and onto the sand, each footfall sending up small plumes of the stuff. Behind them, the door closed, and they turned to face the castle a few meters away.

It was huge, a facility more than it was a castle. Luke had never heard of the place in his small world on Coruscant, but then again he never imagined such a place could exist in this galaxy. The thing looked ancient, much unlike the city he was accustomed to. Two tall towers formed the gateway to a courtyard strung high with flags of a myriad of colors and a tall statue of a small, humanoid creature with a wide face, outstretched arms and eyes hidden behind goggles. He could only assume that this was the owner of the castle that, he gathered from Clover, also served as a tavern.

"What do we intend to do here?" he asked Clover as they shuffled through the sand to the tavern.

"You want to hide from the Empire? Here's the place to do it. Maz Kanata's been known to host many a fugitive from justice in the past. She'll do the same with you. Or..." Here Clover shot Luke a sly, knowing look, "She'll help you find Rowan. But that's your decision."

Luke chose not to answer, and they finished the walk in silence. There was a pull in his heart that he didn't dare entertain.

It was only when they stepped into the tavern itself that he was distracted enough to focus on something else. It was full: packed to the brim with musicians, waiters, bars and bartenders, and creatures of a multitude of races. Tables and chairs of an assorted variety littered the room. A large bar at the back seemed to be the only organized aspect, the words "All are welcome. (No fighting.)" written in a myriad of languages on the wall behind it. Seated at the table that seemed to be what the room centered about was the lady in the statue outside, now in living flesh. Luke could only assume this was Maz Kanata.

At their entrance, she stood, weaving her four foot tall body through the crowds toward them. In normal circumstances, Luke would have found it difficult to take her seriously, but her eyes seemed far too aware for him to entertain such comedy. He simply waited patiently for her beside Clover.

"Welcome! I am Maz Kanata." She greeted them with a raspy, kind voice, weakened and wizened by age. "Would you be staying for long or just passing through? What do you need?" Her words were gentle as her eyes passed over the two, lingering uncomfortably on Luke.

"Staying." Luke answered quickly, determinedly, before Clover could speak.

"For how long?"

"We don't know." Luke returned, forcing himself to meet her gaze. It was far too searching, far too knowing.

"Very well. Follow me." And she beckoned them after her.

They weaved cautiously through the crowds and tables, finally coming to a staircase. They scaled it quickly, entering a long hallway on the second floor, lined with rooms. Maz Kanata stopped before the third one on the left, pulling a key from her tiny pocket and unlocking the door. It flew open on well-oiled hinges, revealing a small room with two beds. The floor was simple stone, occasional rugs placed here and there. A window on the far wall looked out onto the forests of Takodana, rows upon messy rows of tall fir trees that bordered the cool, still lake. It was beautiful. Even through his preoccupied brain, Luke could see that.

"Here." Maz handed the key to Clover, shooting one last glance at Luke as he stared out the window. "Stay as long as you must. My only rule is no violence or politics. If you're interested in either, you may take yourself to another lodging. If not, you are welcome here. I will most likely be down at the bar should you need me."

And she walked off, her short legs carrying her small body down the hall and back to the merriment below. At her absence, the pair entered the room. Luke immediately claimed the bed beside the window, tossing his bag and sword upon the bed, before deciding better of it and sliding the sword beneath the bed, the mere sight of it wrenching his heart.

The two spent the night in silence, neither leaving the room, not even for meals, but neither speaking. When night fell, an hour after their arrival, Clover chose to visit the bar, leaving Luke alone with himself for the first time in two days. The feeling wasn't pleasant, as if he were returning to the dark of old thoughts. In an attempt to shut them out, he stretched himself out upon the bed and closed his eyes, forcing his brain away from the melancholy of his mind to some other distraction. It didn't come. Even three hours later, when Clover had returned, loudly yawning and sliding into his own bed, Luke was still awake, eyes desperately searching the outside world through the window.

He finally gave up, frustration with himself morphing to an urge for action. He slid out of bed and reached beneath the rickety wood frame, searching for Backbiter. His fingers found the cold sheath, and he breathed a sigh of regret and relief, drawing it from the shadows and into the light of the small lamp Clover neglected to shut off. Gripping it, Luke stood and made his way noiselessly to the door, slipping the key from the table to his pocket as he stole from the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

At the opposite end of the hall they had come from was another staircase, leading higher up into what he assumed was one of the towers, and to this he made his way, treading quietly up the stairs, higher and higher until he reached what he was looking for. It was a small room, no larger than the apartment he'd had on Coruscant, but large enough.

Boxes littered the floor, though, and he gently rested his sword upon the ground before going to work, hefting the boxes one by one to form stacks along the walls. It was a good warm up, and his limbs, so used to the manual labor of waiting tables, seemed to shake off the dust of their disuse and embrace this new challenge. Soon, a space had formed in the center of the room, and Luke gave a grim smile to his handiwork, rubbing his hands with the dirt that coated the boxes before unsheathing Backbiter.

A shuddering breath left his throat as he beheld the sword, the abomination, in the uncertain light of the full moon that flickered in through the small windows of the tower room. All was deathly still as his feet padded to a corner of his space, and he readied himself, imagining his first oncoming foe.

He named it Regret and pictured its downcast eyes, its weakness barely contained. This, he smirked to himself, would be an easy victory. Regret raised its brittle sword and attacked, eyes flashing maliciously. Luke ducked beneath the first blow and parried the first strike. And so they danced in the light of the moon, feet kicking up dust with deadly energy as they whirled and stabbed, sliced and parried. Sweat rolled off Luke's brow, dropping like blood to the ground, staining the grimy stone. And he dealt the final blow, piercing Regret's heart when it left the area unguarded, attempting to halve Luke.

The next enemy was called forth. This was Guilt. Its laughing, mocking, merciless eyes attacked Luke even before its glinting blade attempted a blow. A rush of adrenaline surged through Luke as he realized this attacker's skill. The fight was long and gritty. Both moved at speeds they never thought possible, both swinging with blows that would have sliced the widest trees in one strike. But no noise disturbed the musty room, no clanging metal rent the night, no grunt escaped from the lips of either fighter. This was a battle of control as Luke fought desperately to withstand the cruel gaze of his opponent's eyes. The fight ended much the same way the last one had.

And forth stepped Loneliness. A creature undefinable in form or power, it seemed shadowy and uncertain, cold eyes glinting out from a dark face, gleaming in the light reflected from its bitter sword. Luke's eyes hardened. He was weak; he knew that. His limbs shivered from disuse; his breath was shaky and uncertain; his resolve fading. Yet he faced this enemy, and fought with the fervor of a thousand cornered dragons, his movements proceeding in a flurry they had rarely known. Desperation touched every blow, every step, every droplet of sweat that hit the unforgiving floor. The duel was hard and painful, ending in despair as Luke felt the cold steel of Loneliness' sword piercing his chest, slicing through his heart, breaking through the other side. Bitter it was, and hard. Merciless and icy. And Luke fell to his knees, hanging his head in defeat, Backbiter falling limply to the ground. A breath, far too loud in the empty night, fell from Luke's lips, and his sweat was mingled with a small tear, leaking tenderly from his eye before falling to the ground at a deafening volume.

A cough interrupted his brain, sounding out in his absent thoughts, and he raised his eyes, shining haggardly behind limp hair. It was Maz Kanata, standing at the doorway, hands by her sides. A pitying expression of the most genuine sort had shown itself upon her face, and she stepped forward, standing before Luke's kneeling form. Shame gripped him, and he looked at the ground where she stood, refusing to meet her eyes in his current state. A smile touched her lips, though he didn't see it.

"Luke," she said his name simply and swept a finger beneath his eye, wiping the tear stain out of existence, before her hand traveled to his chin and raised it. Reluctantly, he met her gaze. "You have the eyes of a man who is tired of running."

Luke refused to respond, for fear his voice would fail him.

"You are lonely, my child. More lonely than you will admit. Go home, Luke. Go home to your sister. She suffers just as you. You will not be alone. You are not alone." Her voice was gentle, caressing the wound in his heart in a tone so motherly that fresh tears poured from his eyes, watering the dirt beneath him.

"I can't." His voice was raspy, thick with emotion. "I can't." It was weak, the words falling to the floor like dead bodies: limp, broken, hopeless.

"I have been many places, my child. I've seen many things. And what I see here is a man who wants to go home. If I remember correctly, there is a quote many of you earthlings refer to, how no man is a failure who has friends. You have friends, Luke, and if I am correct, you will have many more before you go home. Don't run from this, my child. The only way to defeat your loneliness is to search the opposite elsewhere." Maz's eyes searched his as she spoke, watching the anguish he felt, watching the walls around his heart crash to their ruin. "You cannot fight this on your own."

"How- how can I go back to them now, after all these years?" His voice broke.

"They love you, Luke. They always have, and they always will- nothing you can do will change that."

"I'm- I'm too scared to go..." He trailed off, the tears drying from his eyes, the panic returning to his heart.

"Luke Castellan," And Luke looked up in surprise at his full name, "You will fight many things in yourself. You will fight many battles with your mind. But one against fear is not one of them. Now go, rest. The decision is yours to make. I cannot make it for you. All I ask is for you to consider it."


	8. Seven

Rowan stayed in the back for most of the trip to the trading post, experimenting with the sword and calling out various commands to it while Cassian explained to K-2 everything he had discovered. Rowan only included herself in the conversation when he got the facts wrong, but most of her attention was focused on the sword. It took a while for her to find other ways to manipulate the weapon, changing it not just from a ring to a sword, but from a sword to a spear, using the word "dóry", or a long pole that could be used as both a walking stick and a weapon, using the word "rabdí". But the sword she loved best, the sleekness of the blade, the firm grip that sat beautifully in her hands.

There was a common misconception that Hades was cruel to his children, but Rowan had experienced the falsity of the claim. Hades had been kind to her in ways she had yet to fully understand, traveling with her through the Earth in her search for Luke, providing both protection and company in her sorrow. Since then, she'd earned a new respect for the god, for her father, than she ever believed possible.

But the fact that Hades had been keeping track of her even now, as she roamed space in a galaxy far, far away, blew her mind. Few had ever shown her such love and concern. Other than Hades, Luke was the only other one who took that much interest in her, and now that he was gone, now that she was committing hundreds of crimes all in the attempt to find him, now that she was isolated, so, so far away from home, she was losing hope. But Hades's love comforted her and suddenly gave her a much needed burst of strength.

K-2 was the first to address her as the ship fell to silence. "Rowan, you said that Luke was your half-brother, right? So you have the same mother?"

Rowan nodded. "Yeah, we do. He's Hermes's kid; I'm Hades's."

"But I thought Hades was the only of the Trio not to break the Oath." Cassian's voice was confused. She could imagine his expression, though his back was turned to her.

"Hades was the one to curse the Oracle, so when May attempted to become it, she was cursed. My dad tried to nurse her back to health, but it didn't work. I guess they fell in love then because when Hades returned to the Big House in Camp Half-Blood, where she tried to become the Oracle, he found me in the attic. Apparently I formed right before he stepped in, because I looked newborn. But that was where he first became aware of May, so it makes sense that he would find me there." Rowan explained, before pausing for a moment. "It sounds weird, doesn't it?"

Cassian gave a chuckle. "Yeah, yeah it does." He said as he stood, stretching his stiff limbs and slipping to the back of the ship to open a small cabinet in the wall. From it, he pulled out Rowan's bag of animal crackers and offered it to her.

She stood quickly, practically leaping for the food as her stomach rejoiced in its chance at alleviating hunger. Wishing to be controlled, she took only a handful and lowered herself into the middle seat of the benches, leaning back against the elastic-feeling orange plastic. Each cracker sent a burst of newfound comfort to her protesting stomach, and she savored them slowly, eyes closed. Cassian chuckled and lowered himself into the seat on her left, offering more as he ate them from the package.

"You can have some more if you want." He stated, looking amused.

Rowan laughed good-naturedly and slipped her hand into the bag, grabbing four or five more when she had run out. They passed five minutes this way, sharing food and watching the walls, until Cassian spoke.

"What did Morpheus mean about every demigod or demi-titan having to deal with their ancestry?"

"Oh, um..." Rowan trailed off, searching for the words. "Well, sometimes there's shame- like Morpheus' daughter will have to deal with the fact that her dad willingly served Kronos- or there's the powers that go along with it. Children of Thanatos and Hades tend to radiate death before they learn to control their powers. Children of Hypnos are generally incredibly tired all the time." She ran through lists of people she'd known, looking for more examples. "Hazel, a daughter of Pluto- my dad's counterpart- had issues where gold would pop up in her footsteps all the time, and she was bullied for that because people believed it would bring a curse upon them."

"So there are more children of Hades?" Cassian asked, interested.

"Yeah. We each control different things, though. Nico has more power over the dead, Hazel controls metals, and I have power over physical darkness or shadows. That's why I could 'teleport' on Jakku. It's shadow travel. It took me a while to master it, though. It's exhausting." She shrugged, munching on another cracker. Cassian watched her curiously.

A silence ensued in which neither spoke, though Rowan was acutely aware of his presence beside her, every atom in her body on high alert, watching it.

Cassian opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by K-2 from the cockpit.

"Well, while you two were having a heartfelt conversation, I successfully landed the ship. You're welcome." K-2 stood, facing them as they rose to their feet, moving to retrieve anything they might need. "I suppose you want me to stay with the ship. _Again_."

Rowan looked up to him, smirking as she slid her knife into her boot. "Have I ever told you how much I admire your sass, K?" she asked.

"No, but I appreciate the compliment." K returned.

Cassian looked at Rowan, noticing the empty holster, and gestured to it. "You need another one."

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Thanks." She took one from him and slipped it into its place, watching as Cassian retrieved a messenger bag and slipped it over and around his shoulders so that it bounced on his hip while he filled a small blaster pistol with Celestial Bronze bullets and slid it into the bag. Rowan nodded her approval of this, and their eyes met, understanding and acknowledgement passing between them quickly. Rowan then looked to K-2, smiling.

"K, I'll tell you everything that happens, alright. I'll even give you the gritty details if you want." She attempted to console the droid, who, if his face could have had an expression, seemed to smile.

"It's alright, Rowan. I'm used to the life of an overlooked warrior."

Rowan laughed loudly, slipping out of the ship behind Cassian. "Bye, K!" She shouted, her backpack bouncing against her back as she hurried to catch up with the captain, whose casual demeanor had been replaced with a tense, uncertain one.

He leaned in beside her, muttering beneath his breath so only she could hear in the bustling crowd that surrounded them. "Tivik won't know you, so you'll need to stay where I can reach you. For that, I have these." And he handed her a small earpiece that she inserted into her ear quickly, feeling like a spy in the movies that Luke and her had snuck into multiple theaters to see. Cassian's voice brought her back to reality. "You know the blaster in my bag has Celestial Bronze in it- if you need to, use it."

Rowan nodded, unable to resist the adrenaline that pumped in her veins as she fingered the ring on her pinkie. It had been a long time since she'd handled a sword, and she couldn't wait for the opportunity.

They were soon swallowed up in the crowded, dirty streets. The streets were thin, buildings and vendors taking up a good fifty percent of what could have been used for walking. Little to no fresh air filtered through the masses of people. The world was a jumble of noise: the sound of angry customers, loud advertisers, brawls in the back alleys and the constant marching of Stormtroopers. The sun was crowded out by close-set, messy conglomerations of buildings and the smoke of bars and booths cooking what Rowan assumed to be food.

Every time they passed a Stormtrooper, Rowan found herself moving a little behind Cassian, avoiding eye contact, praying she wouldn't be recognized. In her time on Jedha, imprisoned in their high security cell, she'd learned what it meant to keep her head down. But she'd also learned why the Empire was so feared and hated. The torture they'd put her through, attempting to learn about the Rebellion, had revealed to her their malice and cruelty on a level she herself feared. She'd been able to heal herself somewhat, but when the wounds went too deep, she was exposed to the full scope of their evil. If nothing else, she owed it to the Rebellion that they had rescued her then, after a month of solitary confinement, a day before they were to take her back to what the inmates affectionately called "Speech Therapy".

Even with Cassian at her side, she was wary of them, unable to forget the pain of those months. Cassian seemed to notice this and did his best to hide her, attempting to make the action look normal, and once again, Rowan was thankful for how observant the man was. They reached a stall selling faraway trinkets, and that was where Cassian stopped her, grabbing hold of her arm as she took an extra step forward.

"Stay here." He muttered. "Once I get what I need, I'll come find you. If something goes wrong, I'll tell you what to do. Try to act natural."

He moved off, followed by a "See ya, cap'n" that was acknowledged with a smirk, before Rowan was left alone, watching as his figure was swallowed up by the crowds.

A pang of guilt stabbed at her when he disappeared. There was a need for him to know of his ancestry, but she regretted the shame that obviously came along with it. Ever since the meeting with Morpheus, he'd been less sure of his actions, something that instilled pity in her, but guilt at the same time. She'd been the one to drag him into this, and even if it was for his own safety, she was sorry it had to turn out this way. There was a loud voice beside her, and she twitched her head in annoyance, it's obnoxiousness breaking her train of thought.

It took her a moment to realize that the voice was addressing her, and she turned, confused, to the sound. Her hand fell to her blaster out of instinct when the man, the vendor selling foreign curiosities, beckoned her over.

"Me?" She pointed to herself, confused.

"Yes, you. The one with the sword."

Rowan's heart dropped to her chest. Her sword wasn't visible, still in ring form, but curiosity got the better of her, and she moved cautiously forward until she was standing before his rickety table. He was a strange alien, of a race she had not yet encountered, humanoid and grey skinned with bright, vibrant blue eyes that bored into hers like a knife, pinning her down and reeling her in.

"How did you know about the sword?" She asked lowly.

"It showed itself to me. You're not from these parts are you, daughter of Hades?" It asked, eyes glinting amusedly at her surprise.

"How do you know who I am?" Her voice was wary, suppressed panic frozen to every word.

"You have many questions, don't you? For that one, I can only say that you bear a Stygian sword and a necklace of Thanatos." The vendor answered.

"And you know all of this how?" She regained control of her voice, all alarm disappearing from it.

In response, the alien simply lifted the bottom of his sleeve to reveal his bare, ashy wrist. Rowan resisted the urge to call upon her sword, horror filling her gut.

"You're a werewolf." The words fell from her lips.

"That I am." He nodded. "And you're Rowan Castellan." Rowan's grip on her blaster tightened. "No, don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you. I only knew that because there was a man here looking for you."

The werewolf went back to arranging his merchandise on the table as Rowan backed away slowly, fear and confusion filling her gut.

"I am not the one to fear, Castellan. Fear your enemies." The werewolf looked up and his eyes flashed gold, meeting hers with an intensity she'd never experienced before as the words left his mouth like a stroke of doom. "_They're catching up._"

And then she heard Cassian's voice in her ear. "Rowan!" It was louder than she expected, and she whipped around, looking with wild eyes for Cassian, for someone, anyone she knew, anyone she was safe with. But she realized the voice was in her earpiece and indicated she understood.

"Rowan, there's been a change of plans." Cassian continued, and she could practically feel the urgency in his voice. "Go to the city square. I'll be waiting for you there. Don't look for me, you won't find me. I'll come to you, but hurry!"

And she did, walking as fast as physically possible through the hot crowds that seems to crush her small figure. The words of the werewolf had sunk into her mind, and she now looked cautiously about herself, eyes darting back and forth. She had the strange impression that, as the werewolf had said, she wasn't alone, but no one around her seemed to pay any attention to her existence. And yet she couldn't shake the feeling, and the hairs on her neck continued to stand on end.

The suspicion urged her forward, her strides lengthening until she reached the city square, where she slowed to a halt and waited obediently, praying Cassian would come quickly as she twisted the ring on her finger in circles. Her eyes continued to flick from person to person, creature to creature, mind racing as to who the werewolf meant before they came to rest on a figure, small and scrawny, shrouded in a black coat, looking straight at her. Her eyes met where the figure's must have been, and they flinched, retreating into the shadows. But Rowan's eyes could see well in the dark, and she fixed them upon the form, watching as it slunk through the stalls, attempting to hide. She took a step forward, promising herself that she would stay where Cassian could find her, but the curiosity in her took all her attention.

The figure was similar to some strange person she could remember. The name was on the tip of her tongue, the memory almost surfacing. And still she pondered. The way they walked, their height, their build, all spoke of someone she knew, but she couldn't see the face, overshadowed by the hood of the cloak. She leaned forward, attempting to see clearer, but suddenly a hand planted itself upon her shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, her breath hitching and her heart rate spiking. She turned quickly, but was met with the familiar features of Cassian, confusion and concern written all over them.

"What?" He asked. "What is it?"

"It's-" Rowan fumbled. "Do you see that person?" She turned back to the figure, now revealed in what little light that filtered through the buildings, and gestured to it.

"Yeah. Who is it?" Cassian asked, confused.

"I don't... I don't know..." Rowan returned, eyes watching the figure's every move with an intensity Cassian had never seen. Cassian watched her intently, eyebrows knit together in concern.

"Rowan... Rowan, are you okay?" He asked, beginning to wonder if she had eaten some foreign food that had affected her mind. He put a hand on her shoulder, leaning in close and trying to bring her back to reality.

He glanced at the figure Rowan's eyes followed and watched as it dropped something that gleamed gold and bent over to retrieve it, hefting his robes and revealing a tattoo burned into his skin. Cassian felt Rowan tense beneath his hand, her body growing rigid as she hissed out a name and anger radiated in waves from her.

"_Octavian_."

And then she was off, sprinting after the figure, who looked up in fear, his hood falling back to reveal a thin-face, pale, blonde-haired, blue-eyed man who fled before her towering wrath. Cassian found himself stumbling to a sprint after her, pushing through the crowds as she tore through the square and out onto the streets that branched from it. Octavian led them through twists and turns, doing his best to throw her off his trail, but she followed swiftly and fearlessly, leaping over stalls and slipping through mingling groups of pedestrians. Cassian was just on her tail, following her closely and protectively, knowing he was her only backup in this fight.

They caught up to Octavian at a dead end, the scrawny man staring up the wall in a desperate attempt to find an escape. Cassian slowed to a halt at the entrance, but Rowan had no such reservations. She slammed into the man, grabbing the collar of his blue shirt and shoving him into the wall, an impressive feat as she was a head shorter than him. He grunted when his head cracked against the concrete before he fell to the dirty ground, raising his hands above his head weakly, though hate still burned in his eyes.

Rowan was no exception. The change that had come over her generally calm face had transformed her expression into one of sheer loathing, her eyes fiery with disgust and such abhorrence that Cassian began to wonder who, exactly, this Octavian was. The name rang a bell and he had a strange sensation that he was a part of the Second Giant War, but the amount of information given to him by Morpheus, coupled with his recent experience with Tivik, made most things clouded as his mind struggled to make sense of this new reality.

"How are you alive?" Rowan's chest heaved as she spoke, her heart pounding in hatred, her lungs breathless from emotion and the chase.

"I was traded." Octavian answered, spiteful and proud.

"Not possible. I know Hades doesn't do that." Rowan's sword formed with a ringing noise from the ring, sliding so that the point held itself to his chin when she muttered the opening word beneath her breath. "Try again." She hissed.

Octavian eyed the blade nervously. "It wasn't through him."

"Then through whom?" Rowan spoke with gritted teeth, and Cassian stepped forward, to her left and only a little behind her.

"Hypnos." Octavian snarled. "He agreed I had a role yet to play."

"Agreed with who?"

"Nero. Nero arranged the deal."

"Who's in your place?" Rowan asked sharply, eyes flashing.

"Reyna. She'll regret ever questioning my authority." Octavian answered, triumph shining in his face.

"You _have_ no authority, Octavian." Rowan's voice was hard, cold.

"Wrong. I do." Octavian laughed menacingly, sitting up and leaning against the wall even as Rowan's sword followed him.

"Over whom?"

"The armies of vengeance." He hissed. "You won the war against Kronos. You won the war against Gaea. You won the battle against New Rome. But you won't win this time. Kronos will return and when he does, he'll conquer this galaxy, conquer Earth. It's only a matter of time before your friend here is killed. And believe me," He snarled, "_Kronos is just the beginning._" Octavian gestured to Cassian, and Rowan stepped before him protectively.

"He has nothing to do with this." Rowan growled, hiding the chill his last sentence had sent down her spine.

"Oh, yes, he does. I know who he is. Don't try to hide it." Octavian smirked.

"What are you doing here?" Rowan asked suddenly, disgust never leaving her words.

"I'm joining in. And I came to inform you, Rowan Castellan, that you have been exiled from Earth. Do not attempt to go back. You can't protect him there." Octavian's eyes lit up happily as he reveled in Rowan's defeat, before flicking to Cassian and taking in his stony face.

If she felt pain, she didn't show it, simply continuing to watch Octavian. "I want proof." Her voice was cold. "And it better be good."

"Hold out your hand." Octavian commanded, and she returned her sword to the ring form, opening out her palm before her. Cassian tensed, hand on his blaster. "Here's your proof."

The man smirked, and made a motion of throwing something into the air. The space before Rowan suddenly burst with light, and the image of a laurel crown hovered in the air for a moment, gold and brilliant in the darkness of the alley, before it faded and Rowan watched with growing horror as the symbol branded itself onto her palm.

She looked up, struggling to keep her eyes apathetic, and nodded to Octavian. A bitter smile played across her lips. "Very well. I am satisfied. But you must die. You were never supposed to come back from the Underworld, Octavian. As the daughter of Hades, you are sentenced to return to the Underworld until the Final Judgement." She moved a little, reaching down to her boot, where Luke's knife waited, when Octavian interrupted.

"I'm undead, Rowan, you can't kill me. With Stygian Iron, you ensure Reyna an eternity in my place, and blaster bullets won't kill me. Use the knife and you'll have my blood on your hands and your record is already bad." He sneered, but his eyes flickered in genuine fear.

"You're right." Rowan shrugged, eyes emotionless as she straightened. "I don't want your blood on my hands. It's filthy." And she reached back, slipping her hand into Cassian's satchel and ripping out the blaster, taking aim and firing.

Octavian barely had time to smirk before he was reduced to a pile of yellow dust.

Rowan turned back to Cassian, handing him his blaster. "Thanks." She said simply, eyes empty. "Where's K-2? I'm assuming you got information from Tivik, right?"

Cassian nodded, refusing to speak as they exited the alley and walked back to the city square. Rowan followed him through the streets, refusing to look at her hand. She was an exile now. And all that filled her was apathy. Her emotions had shut down.


	9. Eight

Luke woke early in the morning and watched the sun slowly, softly rising above the horizon. A sigh escaped his lips. That'd been the most relaxing night he'd had in almost five years. There had been no nightmares, no terrified jolts to consciousness. All had been peaceful, all calm. He sat up in bed, the warm sheets falling down off his shoulders and turned to look at his companion. The satyr had curled his body around a large fluffy pillow and was whispering to it softly. Luke caught the words "strawberries... oh, I love strawberries..." before all faded into earthquake-like snoring. A smile touched Luke's lips as he stood, quietly making his way to the pile of bags upon the ground, pilfering through his own and slipping on a jacket before he stood.

He hoped it was early enough in the morning to get a meal at the bar unnoticed, and with this hope, he moved downstairs, closing the door quietly behind him so as not to disturb the slumbering satyr. A chill wind seemed to blow through the castle, coming from the various windows that lit the staircase. His footsteps were quiet, and he was glad that, when he reached the bar, there were very few inhabitants of the room. Silence ruled the tavern; respectful of it, Luke made his movements soft and controlled as he slipped into a seat at the bar, requesting a cup of coffee in a low voice.

When he first arrived in this galaxy, it had surprised him that coffee existed, but he had a feeling that there was a need for caffeine in any and every place, and the wonder wore off quickly. It progressively became his favorite treat when he could afford it.

He finished his breakfast quickly and returned to his rooms to see the satyr yawning wildly as he sat up in bed.

"Already had breakfast, mate?" He asked, looking confused.

Luke nodded. "Good morning." He added, attempting to avoid rudeness.

"G'mornin' to you, too, mate." Clover returned, smiling brightly. "We've got nothin' on the agenda today, mate. I'm gonna go explore the forests, if you don't mind- I saw some pretty trees when we landed. Have fun doing whatever, mate."

Luke smiled. "I'm going to explore the castle." He answered the unspoken question as he went to his bags and began to search for anything he might need.

The satyr watched his movements closely, confused at the change in his charge. The once haggard, tortured look in his eyes had been replaced with something akin to hope: not _entirely_ it but close, as if the dark horizons of the boy's mind had been cleared to reveal a future that may not have been so bleak. The sight pleased Clover, and he hoped the change would last. He believed Luke was far too good-natured to be under such clouds for too long.

"Do you wanna talk, mate?" Clover asked suddenly, sliding to the ground as he moved to find his specially-made shoes and pants to cover his furry legs.

"Hm?" Luke looked up, confused, before he understood the question. Their eyes met suddenly, and Luke shrugged, perfectly honest in his answer. "There's nothing to talk about."

He, himself, had felt the change in his heart. Maz's words had been comforting; he'd been musing on them ever since his conversation with her the night before. Beneath his shirt, the thing she'd given him just before they parted sat cold against his skin, and a smile touched his lips. He didn't know how to react, didn't know what to do. He was troubled still, uncertain of the magnitude of his decisions under the influence Kronos, uncertain of the love of those he'd left behind, uncertain of the temptations he could still fall into. But all seemed less bleak now. There was some budding joy in his heart that he didn't quite understand.

Clover left the room quickly afterward, saying his farewell and muttering something about starving to death before the door closed behind him. Only then did Luke move from his position, standing and walking cautiously to Backbiter. It lay upon the floor between his bed and the window, gleaming in the morning sun, but for the first time, Luke sensed no malice in it. It was simply desperate, desperate for redemption, just as he was.

It fit perfectly in his grip as he lifted it; his eyes roved up and down the blade. And he made a promise then, even if he, himself, wasn't fully aware of it. He promised the cold blade that they would find hope, find joy, together. There would be no more hiding, no more running. They would face the future, and turn back from the regrets of the past, as one. Yet the words had no form in his mind. No thought filtered through this feeling, and he simply sheathed the sword a moment later, belting it onto his hip resolutely and re-entering the hall.

Clover had taken the key with him, which meant Luke would either have to get back later than him or somehow find him in the vast forests that lay about the castle, but the worry soon flitted from his mind, and he jogged down the stairs. A hallway lay to the left of the actual tavern, flickeringly lit with hanging lights. It looked interesting enough, and Luke hurried down this corridor to the end, deciding he would start at the last door and make his way back down the hall.

He'd gathered from Clover that Maz Kanata was a pirate queen who'd spent most of her thousand-year life collecting precious artifacts from various planets, so he highly doubted his venture would be uninteresting.

For close to half the day, Luke explored. The castle was far more complex than he'd expected, some doors leading to new halls filled with even more rooms and some rooms seeming to be bigger on the inside than they should have been. They were generally always packed to the brim with crates and statues or flags, strange memories in a physical form. The place breathed history in a way that even Paris or London could not rival. There was the knowledge of thousands of years packed away here, and he wished he could spend the rest of his days studying it, but alas, he knew his fate would take him elsewhere, and with a twinge of regret he always moved along to the next room.

The day progressed this way, and he found himself in yet another room full of crates, only these were locked, and he moved on, somewhat discouraged. The next door sparked his immediate interest. It was black, charred, ruined. And yet it stood tall and strong, its powerful oak surface intimidating. Luke's hand immediately fell to Backbiter's hilt and sat there for a moment. A sense of foreboding gripped him; his heart rate seemed to pick up in anticipation; a shuddering breath left his mouth. And then he sensed it. Something was _calling_ him from behind those walls.

The voice was barely audible, simply repeating his name over and over. Almost as if he were hovering outside of his own body, he watched his hand rest against the blackened wood and push. He felt his muscles moving, felt his hand pull away and his legs move forward. Looking down, he saw that black soot now covered his palm, and a handprint showed stark against the black of the door. It groaned as it closed behind him, and he turned, momentarily distracted, before the whispering grew stronger and he discerned a woman's voice. It was kind, soothing, and he looked back to the center of the room.

Resting there was a marble statue of a woman, her arms outstretched openly, robes flowing about her slender form. He took an unsteady step forward, curiosity building in him. It was small, only a foot tall, but sitting upon a pedestal that raised her close to eye level. The pedestal, in contrast to the woman's intricately carved form, was plain and simple, almost ugly. He stepped forward, his foot sending up a plume of dust. No noise disturbed the calm of the room. Even his breath created no breeze.

Another step ruffled the dust.

And Luke's world exploded in light.

\- - -

Cassian and Rowan hurried through the streets back to the ship quickly. Rowan's normally bright eyes had faded to a dull, tired expression. It perturbed Cassian, so used to her usual state of careless amusement. Yet she said nothing despite her awareness of his alarm. Even when they had leapt into the ship, K-2 hurriedly taking off, she was silent. She chose a position in the back of the ship, resting upon the floor, her back against the wall, head leaned against it. It was, Cassian thought, very much like the position she'd taken when sitting in the cell he'd conveyed her to on the day of her interrogation. Only now her fingers were limp, no longer fiddling with the rings that decked them. And her posture, once determined, reckless, wild, had sunk to a resigned hopelessness. Her eyes had shut themselves off from the world, studying their lids rather than the ship. A stab of pity hit his heart.

But the feeling was too much akin to the guilt that boiled in his mind. Images flashed across his brain: emotions, thoughts he couldn't control. Even now he relived it: Tivik's panic, the kick of the blaster going off at point blank range, pressed against the agent's lower back, aimed directly at his heart. A shudder ran down his spine, but he shoved it out of his mind, determinedly focusing on the dashboard, directing them to Yavin 4. What he did, he did for the Rebellion. _For the Rebellion_. He repeated the phrase in his head, forcing himself to believe it, staking everything on it.

"You killed him." The words were simple, stated without malice, without emotion. It was simply a fact.

Cassian turned in surprise to see Rowan's eyes open. They bored into his, seeing far more than he wanted them to.

She elaborated. "I felt it when he died. I feel it on you." She pushed herself into a stronger position, resting the entirety of her back against the metal wall, not just her shoulder blades.

"He would have died anyway." Cassian's words were too defensive, too quick. With the one statement, he revealed his guilt and regret to her. She saw it and smiled, a strange expression of pity.

"I know." She returned. "Do you have any more food?" She asked, changing the subject.

"No, but we're almost to Yavin 4. You can eat there." Came the response and Rowan's eyes suddenly grew curious, watching the back of his head and the way the hair flowed softly and gently in the industrial light, wondering what lay behind it, what lay behind his skull, inside his mind. She had a feeling his brain was much akin to Luke's, and the sensation sent a pang through her heart. Her hand fell to hovering over the knife secured in her boot, and she promised Luke that she'd come after him, that it'd all be okay. That they'd live on as a family.

_Even if she couldn't go home._

She resisted the urge to choke on her sorrow. Her eyes slid closed, clenching tight to stop the threatening tears. Years and years of mistakes flashed across her lids: her refusal to kill Luke on so many occasions, her unauthorized joining of the Seven, her reluctance to help save Hera, her choice to leave Earth and pursue Luke against the council's orders. So, so many things. So many things she hadn't done when she should have and did when she shouldn't have. They had caught up with her.

Her mind desperately tried to struggle out of the pit it was falling into, but was unsuccessful, grasping at nothing as it fell back, clawing at anything in an attempt to stop. Only K's voice, radioing into Yavin 4, brought her back to reality, and her eyes slid open. Cassian was close beside her, packing his bags and she stood, following his example. No words were exchanged between them as they swung their various bags onto their backs and shoulders, and the door slid open.

"You go first." Cassian whispered into her ear, and she nodded, leaping out of the ship so that her duffel bounced on her shoulder.

General Draven awaited them outside in the midst of the busy landing platform, and Rowan greeted him with an incline of the head before turning back to watch Cassian emerge from the ship. K-2 followed, and she thanked the droid as Cassian motioned for her to follow him to the general, who looked impatient.

"Captain Andor, Miss Castellan, welcome back. You both are requested in Senator Mothma's office in thirty minutes." He greeted simply and strode off, disappearing into the smoky atmosphere and bustling crowds. At this, Rowan's saddened demeanor fell to incredulousness, and her usual attitude took back its influence.

"What about the 'Good job, Captain! How was your trip? I'm glad you're back safe! Here's a million credits for your trouble!'?" Rowan's voice imitated Draven's as she made a face.

Cassian laughed. "You'll find they're not very good with that these days."

"_'These days'_? I can't imagine Draven like that anytime." Rowan smirked. "So, where are we going?"

"To drop off our stuff. Luckily your room is pretty close to mine, so we can do that quickly." Cassian explained, moving through the crowds, Rowan jogging to catch up to him.

\- - -

"Why didn't you say 'right next to' instead of 'pretty close'?" Rowan asked when they reached the hallway where their rooms were. Cassian's was literally the door to her right.

"I didn't think you wanted exact locations." Cassian shrugged, letting her into her room before opening his own door.

Rowan nodded. "Guess that's a good answer." She said, entering her room.

Nothing in the room had changed; even the sheets she had ruffled in her restless sleep the night before they left were still a mess. She tossed her bags to the floor before reentering the hallway.

"Your room that small?" She asked, jabbing a finger back at her room as the door closed.

"It's a little bigger." Cassian shrugged. "We've got fifteen minutes to get to Mothma's office, and it'll take that long, so we need to go."

Rowan nodded. "I ain't procrastinating. Lead the way, cap'n. I have no idea where I'm going."

Cassian gave an amused smile, and led her through twists and turns until they finally found themselves before Mon Mothma's door. Politely, Cassian knocked on the door, Rowan patiently waiting behind him, looking about the place curiously. The business of the facility seemed to calm in this hall, populated by commanders more than pilots. But Rowan was jerked out of her thoughts when the door opened, admitting Cassian and her into a sparsely furnished office.

"Captain Andor, Miss Castellan." The woman greeted, beckoning them in.

They complied, Rowan rather reluctantly, and took their places at two seats that faced a desk. Behind it sat a wooden chair in front of what appeared to be a map, similar to the ones Rowan had seen everywhere when she had been interrogated. Mothma took her place at the chair across from them.

She turned to Cassian first. "Was the mission a success?"

"Yes, ma'am. I received information that the Empire is extracting kyber crystals to create a weapon..." Cassian took a shuddering breath. "My informant called it a 'planet killer'. A cargo pilot working for Galen Erso recently defected and is now being held by Saw Gererra and his followers on Jedha. He has more information on the weapon."

The gravity of the news caused even Rowan to blanch. She admired Cassian's calm, but noticed how he rubbed his palms together beneath the table and remembered his guilt at Tivik's death. Another stab of pity shot through her heart. She knew his reasoning, his struggle to keep from losing his mind, how he probably told himself what he did he did for the Rebellion. It filled her with some form of sorrowful respect.

Mon Mothma's response to the news was one of increased exhaustion. Rowan noticed the slight droop in her shoulders, coupled with the obviously difficult attempt to keep up appearances. She realized that, all about her, she was surrounded by people who had a cause to believe in, a belief to fight for. And she realized how alone she was. A sudden desire to join them, to forget about her own troubles flitted through her mind, but was gone as soon as it came. No, she realized, her job was to protect Cassian and find Luke. Nothing else could take priority over that.

"Thank you, Captain Andor. We will send K-2SO on a mission to find Jyn Erso, Galen's daughter. Hopefully she will be able to help us with this new development." And the Senator's eyes turned to Rowan. "I have a question that I believe you can answer, Miss Castellan. Where did you get the new weapons?"

"We ran into an old friend of mine who was feeling generous." Rowan answered.

"And the tattoo?" The Senator gestured to Rowan's exposed palm.

Nothing flickered behind Rowan's eyes. "I figured that I should start my teenage rebellion now since I never actually had one as a teenager." The Senator sensed the sarcasm in the response but didn't push it.

Mothma nodded, either satisfied or too tired to ask more questions. "Very well. Now go, rest. I will call upon you when we need you again."

Cassian nodded respectfully while Rowan just looked at her feet. They stood in unison, exiting the office, but not before Rowan caught a glimpse of the Senator sinking into her seat, despair and exhaustion carved into her features. Compassion for the woman entered Rowan's heart, and her eyes clouded as she thought.

They only had walked a few feet before Cassian stopped, Rowan halting beside him. He turned to her.

"You said you were hungry, right?" He asked.

Rowan looked up, confused, her eyes clearing. "Hm? Oh, yeah."

"Follow me."


	10. Nine

When Luke came to, the world had changed.

Where the statue stood, there was now a crater, deep and charred about the edges. Luke coughed violently, scrambling to his feet. Ash covered his front and he swept it off quickly, his body racked as he struggled to regain his breath. It'd been knocked from his lungs as the blast happened, when he was sent flying into the wall. His head ached and he reached up, patting the back of it. It came away sticky. He could barely see the blood in the dim light of the room, but as he stared, he realized it was becoming clearer. He looked up in surprise, looking for the source of light.

And he found it quickly.

There, hovering above the blasted hole, was a wispy form of a woman. It was the one in the statue, draped in majestic robes, crowned with light, black locks of hair hanging smoothly down her back, eyes of an undefinable color boring into Luke's. The small statue was now much, much taller than him and his heart rate spiked in fear.

"Who- who are you?" His voice faltered, but the answer came to him before the woman spoke. It was Rhea: titan mother, titan queen.

Her voice came from nowhere. Her eyes didn't blink. No muscle moved in her form as the words floated from her:

_"The sighted shall enter the half-bloods' domain,_

_With hope will the sun rise again,_

_To shadow must the darkness fall,_

_And titan's child will stand tall_

_A lonely road shall lead to doom,_

_And all shall fail at sky's tomb,_

_The exile returns in a chariot of flame,_

_A broken world will never be the same."_

And the woman faded to non-existence. Luke stumbled back in surprise, falling against the wall as inexpressible dread filled him. It was a prophesy. _Another_ prophesy. He ran his hand over his face, forcing himself to calm down, forcing himself to breathe. But he knew, oh he knew, that this was something of a gravity that could not be ignored. More than a prophesy, it had come from Rhea herself, or at least her form. Something was about to happen. And he knew exactly what he needed to do next.

He turned back to the door, running from what he saw, running from what he feared, hoping beyond hope to find Maz Kanata somewhere, but it was she who found him.

He stopped before her small form in the long hallway, gasping for breath, looking as if he'd faced death and survived.

"The statue." Maz looked unsurprised. "It prophesied, didn't it?"

Luke nodded, unable to find the words.

"It's been sitting there forever, waiting for someone like you. It didn't even open up to Rowan when she was here." Maz explained.

"Maz, Maz, I need to find her. Where's Rowan?" Luke asked, panting, his eyes desperate, urgent.

_\- - -_

_The bunk was uncomfortable._ That was the most factual statement Rowan could have said out loud in the dark that night, curled in a ball, attempting to fall asleep despite the thoughts that flooded her mind. Even through her attempts to suppress the despair of her exile, it had finally caught up with her. It boiled in her, churned in her stomach and caused her to toss and turn incessantly as the night grew longer and longer, seconds dragging into minutes and then to hours till it felt like an eternity of time had passed.

She did her best to keep quiet. The walls were thin, and apparently Cassian's bunk was placed against the same wall as hers; a flaw in the design of the building, but it didn't matter at the moment. She couldn't change it anyway.

She felt uprooted. She had no home anymore, no place to return to once this war was over. She was, for the first time in her life, completely alone. She didn't have Luke. She didn't have her father. And now she didn't even have Earth. The irony of the situation struck her and she smirked despite the tears that had begun to pool in her eyes. What she had always desired was what she would never get; the cruelty of that reality was one she thought she could get used to, but now, faced with it, faced with that monstrous, terrifying, all-too-real truth, she felt herself breaking down.

The uneasiness faded to deadness, a hollow pit of emptiness in her gut. In an attempt to fight it, she sat up, the bunk creaking a little beneath the movement, and swung her legs over the edge, putting her hands right beside her knees and hanging her head over her feet. Weakness beset her limbs, and the tears finally began to pour. They were silent as usual, not accompanied with any sobs or noise, just a tightened throat and slivers if silver that slipped from her eyes and down her cheeks, falling to the floor like raindrops of desolation.

She stayed in that position for a long time, in a fog of loneliness and sorrow, her bare feet cold in the air conditioned room. After a while, the tears stopped and she looked up to the wall, a small smile on her face as she calmed herself down. She'd survive like she always did. She'd adapt. And if not, she had Cassian. She'd do her best to protect him, and when the next distraction came, she'd follow it. Anything to dull the pain that ached in her chest.

A small sigh escaped her lips as she recollected the pieces of her heart that had been scattered about. And then she tensed. A noise had sounded out. It was a human's voice, calling out in protest against something. She sat straighter, ears alert, looking about in confusion. It was the middle of the night; no one should have been awake. And then it dawned on her; the noice was coming from behind the wall.

She leapt into action quicker than she ever had. Refusing to care she was only in sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt, she leapt off her bunk and commanded her sword to form. The cold floor hurt her feet, but it was only a small discomfort. She shoved open her door and flew to Cassian's, knocking harshly on the metal. No one answered, but she could still hear the faint cries behind it.

Panic stabbed her heart as she looked up and down the hallway to check if any others could hear him. But nothing was moving. And still his voice was heard, muffled behind the door, but loud enough to send alarm and adrenaline coursing through her veins. Spurred on by fear, she began to pound furiously on the door, slamming the side of her fist into it with all her might, all the while calling his name.

"Cassian!" She hissed. "_Cassian_!" Panic entered her voice when there was no response.

She looked about herself desperately, and then her eyes fixed upon the keypad, an idea sparking to life in her brain. Leo had explained to her something about breaking electric locks in order to break into buildings; she struggled to remember it, mind racing. She flew back to her room, unable to stop Cassian's voice in her head, focusing on it with a level of anxiety she never felt before. She tore through her room like a hurricane until she finally found what she was looking for: her boots. She ripped open the fake sole and grabbed two wires, broken and stripped. With them, she sprinted back to Cassian's door and ripped off the top of the locking mechanism, heart pounding as Cassian's cries continued to pierce her brain. She searched frantically through the wires that made up the lock, repeating some rhyme that Leo had taught her over and over in her head until she finally found what she was looking for.

Despite the panic in her gut, she couldn't help but smirk triumphantly as she applied the wires, and the machine sparked, the door unlocking so that she slammed her body into it, and it flew open. She was met with the sight of Cassian, fully dressed on the couch he had placed beneath his bunk, his body stretched out. _But he was asleep_. His head twitched back and forth, his eyelids flickered feverishly, his breathing hitched, and sweat caused his clothes to cling to his frame as his hair stuck to his face.

"I didn't sign up for this!" He muttered at someone in his dream, head twitching. "_I didn't sign up for this_!" The shout transcended his original protesting, at which point Rowan was at his side, grabbing his upper arm and shaking him harshly.

"Cassian!" She whispered, eyes wide in concern. "_Cassian_!" This one verged on a hiss.

He didn't respond, still deliriously involved in his nightmare. Rowan held back a a curse when the tears began to pour down his cheeks and he made a move to back away, his arms swiping weakly at the air in front of him. She shot to her feet and went back to the door, opening it quickly as she looked back up and down the hall. When no one appeared, she closed it and flipped on the light switch beside it.

Praying she wasn't disturbing anyone, she went back to Cassian's side and grabbed both his shoulders, her wires disregarded on his desk. With a heave of her muscles, she shook him violently and roared his name.

Finally, he responded, shooting up in bed as Rowan leapt backward. Still blindly functioning, he grabbed his blaster, lying by his side, and aimed it at her. She instinctively raised her hands in surrender, simply glad he was awake and able to breathe easier because of it. There was a pause in which they both watched each other, breathing heavily, akin to the day he'd brought her to Mon Mothma, but now no malice lay between them.

"How'd you get in here?" He asked, looking her up and down warily.

"Broke in." She answered, fully aware of what it felt like to be in his panicked state and knowing he would want short answers.

Cassian nodded, lowering his blaster and slumping over so that his head rested in his hands, supported at the elbows by his knees before he looked up again, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. Rowan waited ten seconds, counting them out in her head, before she lowered her arms. Regaining his composure, Cassian finally took her in. Her sweatshirt, originally loose, had become sweaty in her frantic attempts to get the door open and now clung to her skin, matching the wetness of her face, where he could still make out silvery tear stains in the sweat that caused her loose hair to stick to her cheeks, giving her an even wilder look than usual. But the bags beneath her eyes contradicted it, despite the wide awareness of their current state.

Cassian wasn't in much better shape. His clothes stuck to him, wet with sweat and tears. His cheeks themselves were silvery and his chest was still heaving. The hair he had pushed from his face now stuck to the top of his head, revealing the scope of panic that his eyes possessed. His blaster still hung limp in his hand as they watched each other closely, Rowan searching desperately for a way to break the awkward silence.

Luckily, she didn't have to. "I dreamed, didn't I?" Cassian asked simply, putting down his blaster and running his palms over both eyes to rub away the sleep.

Rowan nodded, not trusting herself to speak lest some note of pity enter her voice. She had a feeling that wasn't a view Cassian wished anyone to have of him. Catching her nod, he returned the movement, dejectedly but acceptingly understanding all that had gone through her head, and the awkward silence returned.

Finally, Rowan ventured to speak. "Do you... Do you wanna talk abou-"

"No!" Cassian exclaimed, shaking his head as he interrupted her. When he caught her startled expression, he restated his refusal calmly and kindly. "No, I'm sorry, but no. We don't know each other well enough and-"

"Both of us have a high probability of dying." Rowan finished, nodding. Her reasoning behind avoiding personal relationships generally centered around the same thought process.

Cassian nodded his agreement, and the silence returned. He remembered her tear-stained cheeks and looked up.

He gestured to her. "You okay? You look like you've been crying."

Rowan shook her head, fighting back the ball in her throat as she raised her palm weakly, revealing the laurel crown in the center of the flesh. "I'm homeless." She shrugged.

Cassian nodded compassionately. Rowan hated that she enjoyed his pity, enjoyed that he cared. Silence reigned again, and everything in Rowan told her to go back to her room, but she wanted to stay; she wanted to comfort him if he needed it.

"How'd you break in?" Cassian asked suddenly, looking to turn the conversation away from the pain they were both feeling.

"Leo- Leo Valdez taught me how." Rowan answered, picking up her wires from his desk and fiddling with them.

"Son of Hephaestus?" Cassian asked, eyebrows knitting together for a moment.

"Yeah." She nodded.

"Didn't he build the mechanical dragon?"

"Festus." Rowan nodded again, smirking a little at the awkwardness.

It reigned for a little while until she moved to leave. She reached the door and pulled it open, stepping out into the hall before Cassian called her name. She turned around, raising her eyebrows.

He had stood and was running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry." He apologized and Rowan cocked her head, confused. "For what happened... with Octavian." He elaborated.

Rowan shook her head, eyebrows knit together in sorrow and regret, but understanding. "Don't apologize. I-" She laughed bitterly. "I sort of expected it to happen sooner or later. I'm not a great friend of the Olympians." She shrugged.

Cassian smirked a little, humor returning to his eyes. "For some reason, that doesn't surprise me."

She chuckled and looked back to her own door tiredly, unwilling to go back to the restless sleep that awaited her. "Goodnight, Andor." She said, moving to her door, before speaking to him before his door could close. "And try not to have any more nightmares. I don't wanna have to break in again." She joked, and Cassian chuckled, relief flashing over his face before it disappeared behind the door, and Rowan nodded weakly, acknowledging his humor, glad she could help.

She typed in her code and stepped inside her room, examining it forlornly before she sighed and slipped back into the bunk, once again returning to the eternal battle for sleep.


	11. Ten

"Rowan Castellan. Rowan Castellan, you are requested in Senator Mothma's office immediately."

Rowan looked up from the bowl of cereal she was devouring in the mess hall. Confusion flashed over her features as she looking to the entrance, attempting to discern the droid who had spoken and surprised when she realized it was none other than K-2. Which made her even more confused, and she knit her eyebrows together. All around her, the activity of the mess hall continued. It wasn't exactly what she had expected, strangely identical to a school cafeteria, complete with a salad bar and the smell of hot sausages cooked in an open kitchen. The cooks themselves also served as waiters and waitresses, preparing the food before they served it over metal counters to waiting trays.

The tables were generally circular, with a few booths pushed against the stone walls. Lights hung above her head and the heads of fifty or so pilots, fighters and officers that littered the place, mingling and talking or sitting and eating alone, bent over paperwork or maps. Cassian was eating with her, sitting across from her in a booth they had managed to claim before more people flooded into the place.

It was the morning after their awkward midnight conversation, and both had dark circles beneath their eyes, attesting to the fact that neither had slept well after the encounter. And the silence that still hung over them was more confirmation that neither were quite willing to speak to each other, scared of the intimacy of how each other's problems had been revealed in a less than joking manner.

Rowan looked to Cassian, wondering if he had heard the summons. But he hadn't and was still spooning the cereal into his mouth, staring at the table with intense focus. He was looking much better, dressed in a new, clean, less sweaty set of the clothes he usually wore, though the jacket lay discarded in the seat beside him. His eyes had lost the scared, darting expression and had returned to their calm demeanor. She smiled a little at this, glad he was back to normal, if not feeling better.

"Rowan Castellan!" It was at a louder volume now. "Report to Senator Mothma's office immediately!"

This reached Cassian, and he looked up in surprise to see Rowan staring at K-2.

And then the words registered. "Why does the Senator want you?" He asked suddenly, and Rowan jumped a little, looking back to him.

"I don't know." She shrugged and stood, grabbing her jacket and slipping it on. K-2 had rescued it for her before she'd been taken to Morpheus, and she felt very much indebted to the droid. The jacket had been Hermes's, one of the last reminders of him that had been left in the house. It was the thing Luke had wrapped her in on that cold day so, so many years ago when they ran away from home.

Cassian watched her actions. "Do you want me to come with you?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No, it's fine. I'll follow K." Rowan shook her head, gesturing to his food. "You need to eat anyway. Can I meet you anywhere after?"

"Yeah. I'll be working on the ship for a bit. If you don't find me there, I'm either in my room or here." He answered. "Tell me what she says."

"Will do." Rowan nodded and turned away. "See ya, cap'n."

She walked to K-2, skirting tables and people with trays of food. Her mind raced to riddle out what Mothma could possibly need her for. She was just a pawn that had been used. She wasn't part of the Rebellion and had worked hard to show no inclination to join. Maybe the Senator wanted to release her. But where could she go? She didn't know where Luke was and, frankly, was losing hope. And Cassian was here. He needed protecting. She highly doubted that Morpheus, in his explanation of the history of Greek and Roman mythology, had transmitted the expertise of surviving monsters.

K-2 was waiting for her. "Took you long enough." He huffed.

Rowan bypassed the comment and smirked. "What does Mothma want me for?" She asked as she followed him out.

Cassian watched her go, confusion and uneasiness churning in his gut. He fingered his blaster of Celestial Bronze bullets by his side, thinking.

"I don't know." K-2 answered simply as they entered the hall, a place just as busy as the rest of the base.

Rowan hurried after K-2, taking incredibly long strides to match his effortless ones and laughing inwardly at how ridiculous she must have looked. When they reached the Senator's office, Rowan halted. All merriment left her. She took a deep breath, forced apathy to her face, and her breathing slowed. She watched her hand rap its knuckles against the metal. The door was opened by Draven, who looked just as stressed as usual, and she resisted the urge to joke about it as she stepped in, following his gesture. Senator Mon Mothma was behind the desk and rose when Rowan entered, relief flashing over the woman's face.

"Castellan." Mothma nodded her greeting.

"Senator." Rowan returned the motion, still confused. Remembering her manners, she turned to the general and inclined her head, acknowledging him, before she looked back to Mothma. "What have you called me for?" She nervously twisted the ring on her finger.

"We need you to help with the mission to save Jyn Erso. As it turns out, she's in a high-security prison camp on the planet Wobani. We know you've escaped from a similar camp before- and, well, you're currently our expert on sabotaging Imperial security." The Senator let a smile touch her lips at the last sentence.

Rowan was far from amused.

"Do you not have others that can break into prison camps?" Rowan let an exasperated laugh into her voice, her hands opening up and gesturing to the office. "I mean, you're _rebels_ for crying out loud. You've gotta have something." She needed to stay with Cassian. If she was injured or killed in a mission, Kronos would have so much more of a chance of conquering the galaxy, conquering Earth.

"We do..." Mothma trailed off, looking to Draven.

"Well?" Rowan demanded, following the exchange.

Draven spoke next. "We do, but not many. Our team is small, mostly composed of people like you. But you have the most experience of them all. They'll be helping with the mission, but you'll have to lead it. This mission is far too important for us to risk failure."

"I'm flattered." The words fell from her mouth, so dry and sarcastic that Draven almost flinched, but Rowan paid him no attention, turning directly back to Mothma. "And if I refuse?" She asked, but even as the words left her mouth, she remembered sitting in the office the day before, watching the dedication of Cassian and Mothma to this cause; something tugged at her soul, deep, deep down. Something she couldn't resist. But she continued her protestations. "I'm not a part of you. You can't _command_ me to do whatever you want."

"If you refuse, you're allowing the Empire to hold captive one of our most precious assets. Without Erso, we can't get to Saw Gererra. We need to speak to that cargo pilot. If we don't, then our cause is lost." Draven explained, almost surprised. Rowan resisted the urge to remind him that Jyn was a _person_, not an asset, and that the cargo pilot probably didn't _want_ to talk to Draven because, from experience, _she_ sure didn't want to.

It was Mothma who spoke next. "Rowan, we understand that you don't affiliate yourself with our cause, but we also know that you have a cause of your own. One that, according to your list of crimes, you'd do anything to see accomplished." Mothma's voice was kind, and Rowan convinced herself that the ball in her throat was a result of some food she had eaten, not the inescapable loss that rested on her shoulders. She forced herself to focus on Mothma's next words. "Consider this cause having the same importance for us. We know you want your brother back, and when we get the chance, we'll help you in that search. But the Empire is a danger to him, too."

Rowan nodded, hating the conflict that raged in her. The Senator had a point, but still left the question of Cassian's safety unanswered. Resigning herself to the problem, she spoke.

"Fine. I'll do it." She stated simply. "How long do I have to pack?"

"We intend the mission to start in an hour." Draven answered.

"An _hour_?" Rowan bit back a curse, before nodding and forcing herself to calm. "Alright."

"A ship will be waiting on the landing pad." Draven opened the door, an obvious indication that the meeting was over. Rowan nodded her way out, breathing easier when she saw K.

"'Sup, K." Rowan waved, letting the despair into her voice as the door closed behind her.

"I heard." K answered, somewhat sympathetic.

"You think you could watch Cassian for me?" Rowan asked after a moment, when they had begun the trek to her quarters.

K-2 shook his head. "I'm on the mission with you."

"Dang..." Rowan's voice was tired. "Could you take me to him?"

"After you pack." K answered. "He's on his ship right now."

\- - -

When they reached the landing pad, Rowan's immediate thought was that she hoped Wobani was colder than this. The sun was absorbed into her black clothes, and she grew uncomfortably hot, matching the uncomfortable uncertainty that churned in her gut. She hadn't taken a duffel with her this time, hoping the mission would be short, promising the mission would be short, and sealing the oath by packing minimally.

Cassian spotted her before she saw him, perched on the roof of his U-Wing, fixing the minor injuries it had sustained in the last trip. He immediately noticed the backpack she wore, and dread filled him at the thought that she might be sent away. When she started to look about herself anxiously, he raised his gloved hand, covered in grease, and beckoned her over. She saw, nodded to him, said something to K-2 and jogged over as Cassian slipped down the side of the ship to the ground in order to meet her. A nervous smile played across her lips.

"You're going?" Cassian asked, confused at the sorrow that stabbed him.

"Not away." Rowan shook her head. "Mothma's sending me to help get Erso. Apparently I'm just _that_ good. But what can I say?" She raised her hands in surrender, mock pride on her face as she pretended to dust off her shoulder. "I always knew I was an expert."

Cassian smirked. "That type of humor is what's gonna get you in danger someday, more than anything else." He refused to joke that it would get her killed. That possibility was almost too terrifying to acknowledge.

Rowan caught the stumbled words, recognizing everything that shot through his head. "Maybe, but it'll be worth it." There was a pause. "Are you gonna be okay? Did Morpheus explain how to fight each monster or what to look for or...?" She trailed off, letting him fill in the blank.

Cassian shook his head negatively. "I'll just shoot them before they reach me." His hand involuntarily fell to his blaster.

Rowan chuckled. "Make sure they're against you first. Not every monster is an enemy, and even if they are, they're pretty much too stupid to realize when they've given too much info. Not that you shouldn't protect yourself. Your neck is more precious than info." She smirked. "How does _that_ make you feel?"

"Terrified." Cassian returned the smirk, though it verged more on a bitter smile. "And you'll be okay?"

"I don't know..." Rowan's eyes grew unfocused, before they brought themselves sharply back to the world around her, and she raised her eyebrows amusedly. "I mean... there's my sarcasm and all that."

Cassian laughed, but his voice was quieter when he spoke and he smiled down upon her with eyes she couldn't avoid, mesmerized by what lay behind them. "Watch out for that."

She joined in, her own laugh and voice quiet, matching his volume involuntarily. "Well then." She sighed. "See ya, Andor." And she gave a small wave of farewell before she turned, heading back to K.

"Don't die, Castellan!" Cassian called after her, and she turned, walking backwards.

"No promises!" She shouted, a mischievous smile sliding across her face. Cassian shook his head, waving her away and laughing inwardly. But worry boiled up in him as he watched her reach a group of men gathered about a U-Wing similar to his. He could see K-2 in the crowd, towering over them all. He watched as Rowan greeted each of the men, realizing that she'd probably been put in charge of the mission. A small smile of pride touched his lips, and he turned back to his ship, grabbing a ledge and pulling himself up to the roof, where he watched the men, following Rowan, file into the U-Wing.

The ship slowly rose off the ground, wings adjusting to the flight position. It rose higher and higher and flew farther and farther away. He gave a small wave of farewell and good luck before returning his attention back to his own ship and forcing himself to focus on repairing it.

\- - -

The day went slowly for Cassian. He labored over his ship, ran errands, took naps, did anything to prevent his mind from wandering to Rowan and all the questions that surrounded her current safety. Morpheus had taught him that demigods were incessantly hunted by monsters, as if they had some form of radar that the monsters could sense, and he highly doubted that Rowan would be safe for long. But, then again, they weren't particularly focused on her at the moment; they were focused on him.

Which brought his irritatingly stubborn mind to the subject of his own safety. He knew very little about each individual monster and what to look out for. He couldn't lie, he was somewhat indignant that he was forced to rely on Rowan during each attack. He couldn't help but wish that Morpheus had explained to him more of the art of survival that history, though he had a feeling that the history was just as important.

About half an hour after a majority of the other inhabitants of the landing pad had left for dinner, the pendent gifted to him by Thanatos began to weigh upon his neck and his fear for Rowan's safety legitimized. His anxiety and questions filled his mind, and he was unable to continue his work on his ship, so he resigned himself to pacing in circles in the shade of his ship, playing with the necklace, using any method possible to calm himself. Whatever was happening, he hated to be away from it, and he had a feeling the necklace wasn't going to do anything but cause him immense amounts of fear. His fears produced nothing, though the necklace lightened up about an hour later. He didn't know if that meant she was safe or dead, and he didn't know if Thanatos, Death himself, considered being dead as synonymous with being safe. The thought wasn't comforting, but easier to manage, and he returned to his ship, finishing his repairs slowly.

The day was ending when he finished on his ship, the sun sending waves of pink light through the planet's atmosphere as he slid off the roof and wiped his greasy hands on a loose rag from the ground. He was the last one on the landing pad that day, a feeling he was used to. When the nightmares first started, he would frequently find himself here, sitting on his U-Wing, trying his hardest to forget the memories that plagued him. He found that it generally worked. The stars circling above his head always fascinated him enough to keep him calm, reminding him that there was more to the universe than his past, more to the universe than the blood on his hands.

But the thoughts choked him, and he shook his head violently, refusing to let them take over, before he slipped his jacket on once more and made his way to the mess hall. It was empty for the most part, only a few stragglers with late-night jobs remained, sitting alone at their tables and staring intently and tiredly at their food. Cassian knew that his breakfast the next morning would be their dinner.

He walked to the metal counter and grabbed a green plastic tray, placing it on the smooth surface and waiting patiently for one of the cooks to notice him. An old woman finally did, and she shot him a smile, hurrying over with a small bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.

"Would you like some coffee with that, my dear?" She asked sweetly as she placed the food on the tray.

Cassian nodded gratefully and waited as she filled a small mug with the drink and added it to the tray. Saying his thanks, he left the counter and searched out his usual booth. It was the one in the corner that had an excellent view of everything around him, the one he felt safe in.

He sat and ate slowly, controlled, focusing more on the food than anything else, surprised at how well it had been made. The tomato soup was perfect: thick, smooth, sweet but not too sweet, and the sandwich brought back memories of his childhood, sitting across the table from his mother, eyes wide as she and his father recounted tales of battles during the Clone Wars and knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that one day, one day he would be just like them. He'd be a hero.

He was jerked back to reality by a presence that appeared in front of him, and he looked up quickly, his hand immediately shooting to his blaster. But he calmed when he realized it was only the woman who had served him his food. She was smiling kindly as he took a moment to examine her. She was perfectly proportioned: beautiful, even with her wrinkles. They seemed to add to the homely feeling she radiated, causing him to relax unwillingly. Her hair was brown, but short and fashioned the way he would have expected from an elder. Her eyes were a warm, kind brown that felt like chocolate melting in a fresh batch of cookies.

"Hello, Cassian." She greeted. "Is the food good?"

He tensed at his name, hand moving to his blaster and resting there. "Yes..."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself." She smiled, amused. "I'm Hestia, goddess of hearth and home."

Cassian froze, glancing around the room. They were the only two left.

"Why are you here?" He asked quietly, confused. "Morpheus said that Hades wasn't contacting him. And he said something was happening on Earth."

Cassian couldn't miss the uneasiness that flashed in her eyes. "Morpheus is correct. But, to be perfectly honest, even the Olympians don't know. So far, we have only information on Kronos. Hades is... preoccupied." She finished. "But I am here to prepare you." And the goddess stood, holding out a hand for him to take.

Cassian watched her, eyebrows knit together in puzzlement as he reached out and took it. A thousand questions raced through his head, but he put them aside. He got the idea that the Olympians were stingy with information.

"Come with me." She said gently, leading him away from the table and out the door, through corridor after corridor. He willingly allowed her to take him, calm seeping into his soul through the connection of their hands. He began to breathe easier, his heart slowing peacefully until they stopped before a door that Cassian knew led to a storage room.

Hestia then turned to him, and he watched as she morphed to a form more fitting of her. She grew taller, her wrinkles disappearing, her clothes changing from the green uniform to flowing brown robes that draped themselves thickly upon her frame. Her hair wrapped itself in a shawl, her eyes turned to a warm red. And still she held Cassian's hand, ensuring his calm would remain.

"Now." Hestia smiled warmly. "You have a chance to prove yourself, Cassian Andor."

Cassian raised his eyebrows.

"Once you pass through this door, you will be on your own. I do not know what awaits you, but I do know it will prepare you for what is to come. You are special, Cassian Andor, more than you, your enemies- and your allies- know. What awaits you in the future has resonated through the ages. It is true what they say- you _are_ the catalyst. And, through you, all will be lost or saved." Hestia's voice was grave, yet its compassion remained.

"What do you mean?"

"You cannot face the future of you have not faced the past." A smile touched Hestia's lips. "You have, no doubt, wondered why Morpheus has not used his powers to alleviate the pain of your nightmares." Here, Cassian nodded. "He agrees with me. You must face yourself before you face what is to come."

"What is to come?" Despite the soothing presence of the goddess, Cassian suddenly had a deep wish for Rowan to be with him.

Hestia lifted a corner of her lip in a small, strange smile that unnerved him more than her words. "The beginning or the end, young hero." The last word hovered in the air as she faded from sight. And then the hall was deathly quiet.

Cassian groaned, frustration and annoyance filling him. "Can I not get a straight answer?" He muttered irritatedly, checking to see if his blaster and knife were still with him. They were, thankfully, so with a disgruntled sigh, he stepped toward the door and pushed it open.

\- - -

"_Clover_!" Luke roared into the night.

They'd been out in the cold for the last three hours: just him, Maz and a few willing guests. Clover hadn't returned in all that time, and Luke was desperate. Originally, he'd been irritated when the satyr hadn't shown up by dinner time. But when two hours had passed, two hours where the satyr could have been enjoying his favorite pastime of stuffing his face with free food, Luke grew worried. He gave the satyr another hour, knowing he would be offended if Luke came to find him, but the hour ended quickly and Clover hadn't returned.

"_Clover_!" His voice rent the night once again, at a volume and intensity he never knew himself capable of.

About him, cries of the same sort rocked the night air, coupled with the noise of crashing undergrowth and the occasional grunts and muttered curses of those who had tripped over loose branches. Panic stabbed at him. Some sort of affection for the satyr had bloomed in him. To some extent, he enjoyed the endless "mate"s and the gentle care of the creature. He was, currently, Luke's only companion. It was so hard to resist the pestering fear that the satyr had entangled himself in something lethal. Luke refused to consider death among the possibilities. And so they searched. But it was becoming clearer and clearer that something was wrong. And not just with Clover. The entire forest was deadly silent in a way that scared even Maz.

She was generally able to sense the souls of the animals that inhabited the woods, but there were none now. They'd attempted to find Clover with her sensitivity to the Force, but with no small amount of worried vexation, Luke remembered that satyr's didn't have souls. They were invisible in the Force. And, evidently, invisible in the forest too.

As Luke shouted himself hoarse, he found himself beside Maz. She barely came above the hilt of Backbiter.

"Where the _heck_ could he be?!" Luke finally exclaimed exasperatedly. "I leave him for a day- a _day_\- and he gets lost in a forest on a planet who knows where and he's a _satyr_! He supposed to be at home with this stuff!" He kicked a tree, and pain spiked up his leg, causing him to jump back, biting back a curse as he stumbled to a limp.

"Do you say this out of worry or annoyance?" Maz's voice was tired, kind, and amused: a strange combination.

"Worry." Luke grudgingly muttered beneath his breath.

There was a small laugh beside him. He turned in surprise. "What?"

"Nothing." She returned, and he could still see the smile on her face in the dim light of the stars. And they returned to calling Clover's name over and over.

They must have spent an hour doing so, for the back of Luke's throat began to bleed, until finally there was a shout from far away.

"Maz! We found something!"

Without a word, the two turned and ran, leaping over roots and logs until they finally reached the formerly faceless voice. It was one of her waiters, a Bothan who had moved there during the Clone Wars in an attempt to escape the endless violence. He was pointing to the ground, and only then did Luke see the massive cave entrance that lay there. Dread filled him. He could feel something down there. Something incredibly dangerous, and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was where Clover had disappeared.

"I'm going in." The words slipped out of his mouth without a thought.

"Of course you are." Maz returned. "And I'm coming with you."

"I'm assuming the stuff down there is not from this galaxy, Maz." Luke turned to her, eyebrows raised. "How're you gonna fight it?"

A mischievous smile touched her lips. "I've got friends in strange places, Luke. They often give me useful gifts." And she pulled a blaster from a holster on her hip. Luke couldn't help but notice that the gun looked like a revolver and that, glinting and glowing from the cylinder, were Celestial Bronze bullets. A laugh escaped his lips.

"It works." He nodded. "Where'd you get it?"

"You're not the only demigod that's visited me. And I've run into many gods and goddesses here." She returned. "But enough talk, let's go."

And they did. Luke leapt in, praying nothing waited at the bottom for him before he turned to help Maz, but she wasn't there. Fear stabbed him until he heard a cough behind him and whipped around, hand shooting to his sword. She was standing behind him, an amused smile plastered on her face. He rolled his eyes as she beckoned him to follow her, but did, and their forms were engulfed in the cold dark of the underground caves.


	12. Eleven

"That...," Rowan said, looking out the window of the U-Wing, "Is a pitiful planet."

There was a burst of laughter behind her and she turned with an amused expression to the three men seated in the middle of the ship, the fourth occupied with K as the pilot.

"You've never been there, miss?" One of them asked, confused. She struggled to recall his name before remembering it was Ruescott Melshi, a man with an accent verging on Irish, though again, she had to assume he didn't know what Ireland was. Which brought her worried thoughts to Cassian- the non-Mexican Mexican- and she frustratedly shoved the man's face out of her mind's eye.

"Nah." She shrugged. "I was on Jedha."

She went back to observing Wobani as K-2 kept them high enough in the air not to be noticed. The planet was temperate enough, but around the prison camp, which took up a good majority of the small planet, it was mud. Completely. There was no _end_ to the mud. And Rowan found it to be a disheartening sight. They would have to land in a place undetectable by Imperial trackers (they were already having trouble staying off the radar even now) and then hike to wherever they would be able to find Erso's location.

She turned back to the men. "Alright, I wanna get in, get Erso and get out before tomorrow morning at the latest. I think we can do that, but I need y'all to spill any info you might have that might be helpful. We can't risk failure, and I have a feeling you all want to go home in something other than a body bag, so I need y'all to stay focused and open. We can do this; we just need to pool our resources and work together."

The men nodded as she paused.

"K's gonna take us as close as safely possible to the headquarters. We're gonna set up camp there and then get going. Do any of you know where or even _if_ they keep records of the prisoners there? You, Debnoli, weren't you here for a while?" Rowan gestured to the man seated in the middle, rolling a blaster bullet around on his hand. He seemed old for his young age of thirty something, a misleading appearance she attributed to his many years in various prison camps of the galaxy. He had a bald spot that extended from his forehead to about halfway down the back of his head, like Moses parting the Red Sea, though the sea of his hair was black and fading. His nose was sharp and pointed, his eyes old and tired but fierce and ready, his lips thin and weakly drawn upon a lean, almost sickly, face.

"I was." He answered. "As far as I know, they do. As to where, I have no idea. But they don't only keep a record of the prisoners, they track where they go each day and what carts they're supposed to take. All the info you need will be there, I just don't know where." He repeated, shrugging a little hopelessly.

"That's okay." Rowan nodded. "It's a start and more than I was hoping for. K!" She addressed the droid, who turned momentarily to acknowledge her before returning his eyes to the dashboard and the ground several hundred feet beneath them. "Is it possible for you to hijack into their database and find where we can get Debnoli's info?"

"Yes." The droid returned. Again Rowan wondered at the emotion in his voice. He certainly had a personality, even if it was one of frankness and sarcasm. "If we can disable another droid long enough for me to read what's stored in its hard drives, I should be able to find a map."

Rowan resisted the urge to laugh in relief. This was turning out easier than she expected. "Alriiiiiiiight." She drew the word out, nodding. "It seems we've got ourselves a plan, y'all. So, Debnoli, K and I are gonna somehow sneak into the base. I don't know how yet- it's gonna be an on-the-spot decision." And she prayed she wouldn't have to use shadow travel. "But, I need the rest of you to stay here and wait for us. Once we find where Erso is, we're going in as a team to retrieve her, which means you're gonna have to keep us off the radar for a little bit longer, BoShek, if you can." And she turned to the man serving as co-pilot to K. He nodded.

BoShek was the technician of the mission, a wizard of mechanics and someone Rowan was deeply grateful for. Leo had taught her a lot about technology, but not enough. This man, though, blew her mind. She wouldn't have been surprised if he was a child of Hephaestus himself. He was small, though, probably her height, with vaguely greasy blond-ish hair he pulled back with a strip of cloth. His eyes, brown and humorous, were marked by a liveliness and youth that reflected her own. It was contained energy, raw and mischievous.

Rowan grabbed onto a loop above her head as they began to descend through the rough winds that battered the ship. A glance about the room showed that each of the men were just as ready as her. She'd have to put one in charge, but she didn't know whom. Either Melshi or Garouf, the fourth member of the crew, would have to lead. Melshi had more experience, Garouf more wisdom. It was, essentially, the situation of Enjolras and Combeferre in _Les Misérables_, a book Luke and her had worked through long ago. Melshi was Enjolras, Garouf- Combeferre. She smiled to herself. This was exciting.

The ship's landing, though, jolted her out of her thoughts.

"Okay- Debnoli, K and I are going in. Bring minimal weapons- only what you need. Melshi, you're in charge till we get back. Here," She rummaged through her bag and threw him one of the earpieces her and Cassian had used in the Ring of Kafrene. He caught it nimbly as she continued: "I'll be using that to keep in contact. Stay here, stay low and above all- _don't die_." She commanded with a smile. Melshi smiled amusedly, and she met the eyes of each of the men.

In each iris, she beheld a determination that she trusted. If she were to die, she would willingly do it side-by-side with each of them. But the weight of the knife in her boot was a testament for her need to stay alive. BoShek stood and met her eye, hitting the button to open the door, and they were admitted out into the open. Beside her appeared Debnoli as she stared out into the endless fields and dunes of mud. About a quarter mile away, she could see the building of headquarters sticking up above the mud, and she realized she'd be going from the shabby outdoors to the malicious indoors with a shudder. Beside her, Debnoli shot her a look of concern, but her fierce demeanor had returned, and he attributed the movement to sudden cold.

She was the first to step out onto the ground- or, rather, into. The mud rose up to over her ankles and she realized that it was going to be tough work to reach the headquarters in these conditions, but she put on a face of resolution to mask the annoyance in her heart. She had trained for situations akin to this at Camp Half Blood anyway, and she prayed the exercise would be enough to maintain her hamstrings and quads in the long trek ahead. Debnoli was less skilled at controlling his emotions, and a small groan escaped his lips when he realized what they would have to hike through. Rowan turned back to the others in the ship as K-2 left.

"Alright." She forced as much authority into her voice as she could. There was a reason she wasn't a child of Zeus, and she was glad the mission was with only a few men. This number was one she could control. Death had shown her the intricacies of individual human life, and she had trouble understanding it in masses. But doubts were pushed away by the trusting and confident expressions of Garouf, Melshi and BoShek as she continued. "We should hopefully be back soon, at least before sunset. If not, come after us. If we need help, I'll contact you." She tapped the side of her head, indicating where her earpiece was. "May the Force be with y'all." She ended as she turned and began the hike. Behind her, the parting phrase was returned, but the anticipation of the action ahead spurned her into movement. She couldn't remain any longer. Already the adrenaline was kicking in.

"Rowan." K-2's voice came from behind her as the door to the U-Wing shut.

"Yeah?" She paused and looked up from her studious concentration on the ground, mirroring Debnoli's furrowed brow as both struggled not to fall.

"Do we have a plan to get into the building?"

"Nope." She shook her head, eyes falling back to the ground. It had started to drizzle, and each raindrop was sending up small splatters of mud that now spiderwebbed about her boots in droplets. One look up at the sky proved her suspicions; the impenetrable grey overhang of clouds would make it difficult to see oncoming ships: friendly or otherwise.

"You do know that our chance of failure is-" K started but was cut off by Rowan, who raised a hand to silence him.

"High. I know. But what's life without a little risk?" She asked rhetorically, eyebrows raised in amusement as she stumbled and caught herself.

Debnoli glanced at her, a smile playing over his lips.

"Safe." K-2 answered, and the man looked back at him, inwardly laughing, before he went back to the struggling trudge. Rowan chose to ignore the droid's comment, though Debnoli noticed a challenging smirk flash over her face.

\- - -

They reached the headquarters half an hour later, sweaty and tired but ready. Through the painfully difficult trek, they'd learned how to manage the shifting mud beneath their feet and were getting along well aside from the burning in their calves. Rowan breathed a sigh of amazement when her eyes caught the building and roved up and down it.

It was impenetrable. Strong and formidable, it rose high above their heads into the grey clouds above, which only added to the intimidating waves that rolled from it. Imperial power was branded in every aspect of the dark cement or cement-like substance that made up the edifice. This was a building meant to serve the needs of the Empire, yes, but also to instill fear in their enemies. And, for a moment, it did. But Debnoli and Rowan recovered quickly, focusing on the truth they fought for. This was a moment of revenge for all the lives that had been lost, a moment to humiliate the Empire in a painful way. By breaking into one of the largest headquarter facilities the Empire owned, they were proving the resilience and strength of the Rebellion. And a smirk touched their lips.

The only problem was the fence.

It was a huge chain one, like the ones her and Luke had seen in all those prison movies, but, she had to remind herself, this too was a prison. It was topped with the classic curled barbed wire and she didn't need the bright red sign to tell her it was charged with electricity. From five feet away, the sheer power of the stuff caused her hair to stand on end. Her heart rate quickened.

"K?" She asked, and the droid turned to her, along with Debnoli, who looked just as hopeless as she felt. "Can you get over that without getting electrocuted?"

"No." Was the answer.

"Can you throw us over?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

"No." His tone didn't change.

Rowan's eyes fell back to the fence. "That's helpful." She muttered beneath her breath.

"But." And K suddenly fell subject to the intense stares of both Debnoli and Rowan. Both had amused smiles on their lips. It seemed impossible to feel completely despairing in light of the intensity of their excitement. "I _do_ know another way to get in. Follow me."

Rowan gave K a smile. "Alright. New plan: follow K."

Debnoli laughed and followed her as she slipped after the droid, smiling brightly despite the sludge beneath their feet, the cold drizzling rain, and the grey skies up above.

\- - -

K's plan was a little insane. And required more patience than she knew she had. They were to wait outside the apartment complex for the Stormtroopers until some passed by them and then incapacitate them, take their armor and sneak into the complex disguised as them. It was a brilliant plan, she had to admit; the only flaw was that Melshi was expecting them before sunset, and the sun was already uncomfortably close to the horizon. And still no Stormtrooper had appeared. Rowan was growing desperate.

They'd positioned themselves behind a huge mud dune, something she was finding to be a common landmark, beside the small, vaguely clean cement walkway that lead to the apartment complex. A silent anxiety hung over the trio, and she was having trouble resisting the urge to shout out something in the dead quiet that permeated the planet. But she didn't have to. Because, at that moment, clunking footsteps were heard from the pathway. Debnoli and Rowan perked up, straightening, Debnoli clutching his blaster. His face was paler than usual. Barely moving, Rowan nodded to K, who returned the gesture.

K-2 strode out from behind the dune, his limbs whirring mechanically, his arms hanging low and swinging. Rowan risked a peek, Debnoli raising his eyebrows, silently asking her what was happening. She shook her head and raised a finger, telling him to wait. The Stormtroopers froze when K appeared, and Rowan realized how much was at risk. She highly doubted Cassian would ever forgive her if she let the droid die. Evidently her fear was obvious, for Debnoli grabbed her shoulder and gave her a reassuring look. She nodded, accepting it, jerking her attention back to the interaction.

"Hey! What are you doing?" The shout came from the left Stormtrooper, and Rowan flinched at the cliché. Rowan and Debnoli froze, holding their breath in anticipation. She could almost hear her heartbeat. So much was at stake.

"I lost my way and was wondering where I was supposed to be."

Rowan could have screamed.

The stupidity of the lie was that it was blatantly obvious. He was a droid, for crying out loud. He would have known where he was going. Debnoli tensed beside her as she smacked her forehead, her eyes flashing in frustration. And then he elbowed her, slipping one of the tasers they'd brought into her hand. With one each, they slipped quietly from behind the dune and appeared behind the Stormtroopers. Rowan took the shorter one, jamming the two ends of the taser into the back of its neck. It crumbled before her with a thud. A similar noise half a second later revealed Debnoli had followed her example.

And then Rowan looked up at K, an incredulous expression on her face. "You were _lost_?! _Seriously_?!"

"Well, what else was I supposed to say?" K asked as he followed Debnoli and Rowan back behind the dune, both groaning as they lugged the heavy Troopers behind them.

"Something a bit more creative." Rowan returned through gritted teeth. The Stormtrooper had to have weighed two hundred pounds. Her back yelled in protest as she straightened, wiping her sweaty palms on her pants.

It took them fifteen minutes to strip their Stormtroopers of armor and clothe themselves in it. It was heavy and hot and painful, and Rowan discovered why they'd never been able to catch up with her in all the times she'd run from them. As they hefted the large blasters into their hands, she heard herself say through the electronic filter: "Alright, let's go," but the voice was not her own and her hair stood on end. It was disorienting at least, to hear herself this way, and she shuddered.

Nevertheless, she forced herself to bypass it, and Debnoli walked by her side as they trudged beneath the crushing armor toward the Imperial headquarters. Rowan's heart quickened. The plan was vague, the goal uncertain, but they would do it. They had to.

\- - -

They were able to enter the headquarters easily, sliding an ID card through a slot before they stepped into the vast complex. It took Rowan's breath away, and she had to resist the urge to show her amazement. The ceiling was several floors above their heads, each level open to reveal it. Black tile glinted with cold light beneath their feet, hallways and stairways branched off from the main area; computer screens and holographic projectors littered the space. Stormtroopers roamed about in pairs and groups, frequently accompanied by droids that looked disturbingly like K, and Rowan found herself uncomfortable with the droid directly beside her. Something about this place was off. It was evil. She could feel it radiating from all around her. And the evil wasn't entirely human. Someone- some_thing_\- had recently been here. Something that sent chills down her spine and a tremor through her bones. They needed to get out of here- fast.

She was jerked out of her thoughts by a small tap from Debnoli, who nodded almost indiscernibly to K, who had begun to lead them in a direction to the right, down a long hall. Anticipation flickered to life in her gut, and keeping in step with Debnoli, she followed the droid. Fifteen minutes later found them standing in a small alcove of the hall, Debnoli watching as K transferred information from another droid's database to his own. Rowan stood guard, unable to view the proceedings; some part of her was disturbed by the way K downloaded the info. She pushed down the revulsion in her gut and forced herself to look for any possible danger. All her senses were on high alert, and each small sound seemed amplified in the echoing hall. Mentally, she begged K to keep the noise down. But it was over quickly and when the otherworldly, chilling whirs ended, she turned to face K and Debnoli, expectant.

"The information we're looking for is on the second floor." K stated, and Rowan breathed a sigh of relief. "But we need to hurry. Dinner will begin in thirty minutes. While they eat, we can find what we need and get out." He explained, and Rowan nodded. She couldn't see Debnoli's eyes when their helmets turned to each other.

"Let's go." Her voice was not her own, and once again, she forced down the uneasiness.

Debnoli took his position by her side, and together with K-2 close behind, they began the march, fraught with uncertainty, to the staircase, up the glistening steps, down more long halls, mazes of industrial power, till they finally reached the room they sought.

It was smaller than she'd expected; only a few officers manned the computers that sat upon rows of desks. At the head of the room was a window, letting in the dying light of the sun. But Rowan had merely a glimpse before the trio were pushed to the side by the workers streaming from the room. It was dinner time, and Rowan smiled. They'd made it just on time. The lights shut off as they slipped into the room. All that illuminated the space was the flickering glow of the screens and the dim sunlight from the window.

Rowan's first action was to remove the helmet. She placed it on one of the tables, giving it a look of disgust before hurrying to the nearest computer.

"What name is she using again?" She asked Debnoli, glad to hear her own voice.

Debnoli's had also returned to normal, his own helmet discarded beside hers. "Lianna Hallik."

"Alright." She nodded, scrolling through the rows of names and numbers until her eyes hurt. Finally, the name branded itself into her retinas, and she rubbed tired eyes. "Found it."

Debnoli breathed a small laugh of relief and opened his mouth to say something.

It was the alarms that cut him off.

\- - -

Cassian was greeted by darkness when he opened the door and he paused, letting his eyes adjust to the world around him. Cautiously, he slipped his blaster into his hands- the one of Celestial Bronze bullets- and advanced forward. Hestia's words had sent a chill of foreboding down his spine. What had she meant by "what is to come"? He had a feeling the words meant more than just his survival. The fact that Kronos intended to come back was bad enough, but the fact that it had taken the titan this long to realize his chance lay in Cassian was even more disturbing. All the gods Cassian had met so far had known him immediately to be the son of Kronos, so why would it have taken Kronos himself so long to realize who he was and the advantage his death could provide the titan? The questions terrified Cassian more than he would admit, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Kronos wasn't the entire problem: that the real problem was much, much worse. He racked his mind for something, anything, that could be worse than Kronos, but in the history of the fight between demigods and the great powers, the only enemy that could possibly have rivaled the titan was Gaea.

And then it hit him, and the wordless terror of what he suspected washed over him. He remembered vividly the look on Octavian's face, the triumph at recognizing Cassian despite his helpless position, defenseless against Rowan's sword. The words filtered back to his mind, almost audible in the dead silence of the room.

_Kronos is just the beginning. _

Cassian shuddered. His confirmed suspicions gave him no comfort, but he forced himself forward, moving away from the door, attempting to focus on what lay about him, not his fears. The room was immersed in gloom, the darkness turning the crates and barrels about him to shadows in a deep night. He commanded his breathing to slow till all that could be heard were his barely audible footsteps, muffled against the dusty floor, and his heartbeats. Hestia had stated that this was a chance to prove himself, but against what he didn't know. He highly doubted this would be an easy challenge.

And then he heard it. A soft, sweet singing filtered into his ears, dancing about his mind with the innocence and naïveté of a child. The voice was beautiful, young, drawing him forward curiously into the storage room. The grip on his blaster loosened, so much was he entranced by the voice. It was enchanting: gentle, kind, words flowing in a language he didn't know but somehow felt resound deep in his soul. Rapturous fascination brought carelessness into his steps.

Intoxicated, his blaster fell from his hands as he hurried to a jog, but the clang registered no noise in his ears. No, no, only the song. Only the song. He was desperate to find this bodiless voice, this beautiful singer, desperate to be drawn ever further into the song till he left the mortal world behind and entered forever into the wonder of this music. Tears choked him at the thought that he may never find the source, and his movements acquired even more yearning.

And then he rounded a corner, only to be met with a sight that filled his heart with such emotion it seemed ready to break. His breath hitched in amazement as two embracing figures pulled apart, distracted by his sudden movements. He let out a small laugh, his voice breaking in disbelieving joy. The music had risen to a crescendo of ecstatic glory. They had been dead for so long but somehow they were right before him. It was his mother and mortal father.

They seemed so at peace, for the first time in an eternity, dressed in clean, tan robes that draped over their figures. His mother was just as beautiful as she'd always been: tall, fair, with a sharp face, warm brown eyes, and long, silky black hair that flowed down and about her shoulders. His mortal father was just as tall and muscular as he had been in life, with proud black eyes and brown hair that exploded messily out of his scalp, an ever mischievous smile playing across his lips. They were so, so painfully real as they advanced toward him, hands held out, reaching for him, mouthing his name, though the song had grown so loud he couldn't hear their voices.

His mother then advanced alone, watched lovingly by his father, holding out both her hands, speaking gently. He reached out weakly, too choked by tears to answer. His heart longed to touch her, longed to be back in the embrace that told his ten-year-old self that they'd be safe, that they'd make it through together, just like they always did. He was so ashamed of who he had become: this killing machine that could commit horrifying acts of cruelty in the name of a cause so strangely impersonal. But his mother loved him; she could forgive him, care for him, understand. And then they were together.

Their hands met, and his world shattered in a screech that tore through his ears at a volume unmatched by any human voice.


	13. Twelve

In a word, the maze of underground caves was cold. The temperature seemed to have dropped a good twenty degrees, and Luke couldn't tell if it was the uneasiness or the chill that racked his body with shivers. Next to him, Maz was still, her erect form bobbing along beside him with its characteristically waddling way of walking. Luke couldn't deny he was glad she was there. Soon he lost the ability to see, and his apprehension increased tenfold. He was hesitant to remove Backbiter from its scabbard, sensing that they were not alone down here. And soon he realized that whatever it was was drawing them farther in. Some ancient malice was tugging them forward. Soon they would be unable to resist it.

Maz seemed to have also noticed it, growing stiff as anxiety rolled off her in waves. It didn't comfort Luke, and his hand began to clench even tighter about Backbiter's hilt. _Something was wrong._

They had been walking slowly and quietly for what seemed to be half an hour, though Luke had no idea how one could tell time in this dark, musty hole. Only then did they begin to see a light flickering. All was deathly still and silent.

That was when Maz froze, and her hand latched itself onto Luke's wrist. He could have shot up through the layers of rock to the surface in surprise, but all he got out was a gasp before she yanked him to the wall. His back slammed into it, and he lost his vision for a moment before his eyes refocused on the world about him. And then he heard it.

Up ahead of them, there was a shuffling and grunting and growling, along with the faint screams of what seemed to be a thousand animals caged in their terror. Adrenaline shot through Luke, and his senses suddenly became acutely aware of everything about him as the demigod in him stirred. Maz beckoned him to follow, and he did, his grip on Backbiter tightening as he forced himself to remember his training. His muscles tingled in readiness.

They crept alongside the wall, keeping their eyes fixed perpetually, almost unblinkingly, at the light ahead. Finally, Luke began to smell the odor that wafted from their destination, and revulsion filled his gut. It was the smell of wet sheep- so strong he had to resist the urge to puke then and there. And yet Maz kept them moving. He began to wonder if she could smell it, too. She seemed apathetic if she could.

It seemed an eternity until they finally reached the entrance of a large underground cavern, lit from the center by a huge bonfire. It took Luke's eyes a moment to adjust, but when they did, what he saw astounded him. All along the walls of the space were cages: tall ones, wide ones, small ones, massive ones. Imprisoned in each rusted cell were creatures of varying complexity. And, seated beside the fire, stoking it methodically, was none other than Polyphemus.

It had been a long while since Luke had encountered the huge cyclops in his travels, and for the first time in this galaxy, he was thankful for his past experience. It allowed him to recognize the huge, gnarled body; the milky white eye, eerily aware of its surroundings; the deformed features and bald head; the large ears, knotted, broken, torn, but still able to hear even the smallest noises. Now it all stood before him: several feet and hundreds of pounds of muscle and malice. Backbiter seemed to thrill with its master's excitement.

"Come, come, little friends!" Polyphemus chuckled gleefully. "Join my party!"

Luke's heart dropped to his stomach, but he stepped forward, mind racing as to how to kill Polyphemus and find Clover. Discreetly as he could, he flicked his eyes about the place, looking for Clover. Finally, he saw him, sitting in a cage directly across from Luke, his arms crossed over his chest, an annoyed, grumpy expression on his features: the look he generally gave when Luke accidentally woke him too early in the morning. An amused smile touched Luke's lips at the sight. Even in danger, Clover remained the same.

But beside him, Maz seemed less than entertained. Her face had hardened angrily, eyes flashing behind their goggles. Luke knew why; a majority of the animals were harmed, limping about restlessly in their cages. Luke forced his eyes not to land on the decently sized pile of mutilated carcasses in the corner. If only for his friend, the rage inside him boiled. His mind worked harder.

For some reason, Polyphemus hadn't attacked. In all his dealing with cyclopses, the memories of which still disturbed him, Luke had realized them to be ruthless, cruel, overeager to get their hands on their prey. But Polyphemus was patient. Something was off.

"What's all this?" There was no fear in Luke to be hidden. All was either anger or resignation.

"They are gift- gift for Great One who will bring me out of my hiding, little human." Came the response. Luke resisted the urge to cringe at the grammar. Even Tyson was more educated.

"Who's the Great One?" Luke asked cautiously, moving slowly about the room, sword now unsheathed. Somehow the cyclops was able to follow him, though it seemed more by ear than anything else in the way Polyphemus cocked his head. Clover had caught sight of Luke by now, and was gesturing desperately, but not in the way Luke expected. He was waving him away, a look of sheer terror on his face. Luke elected to ignore it.

"No, no." Polyphemus stumbled over the English language for a second. "Many Great One."

Luke fought back against the questions in his mind. He'd have time to think later. For now, they needed to get out of here. And yet Polyphemus didn't seem anxious to move. He was holding back, but for what, Luke didn't know.

"Ah." Luke raised his eyebrows, nodding. "Didn't go to school, did you, buddy?"

"No!" The cyclops roared and Luke winced at the echo. "I don't need no filthy school for filthy mortals! I am immortal! The great Polyphemus!"

"whatever you need to tell yourself, buddy." Luke returned. He was almost to Clover now, but the chains were something he'd never be able to break through. "Although, a filthy mortal did defeat you a couple times, didn't they? You remember Nobody?" Luke asked, testing the creature.

The result was the one he wanted. Polyphemus went ballistic, leaping to his feet and releasing a yell of such anger and hate that Luke's courage faltered for a second. "Wait!" He shouted. "Are you- are you-"

Luke cut him off. "Yes!" He shot back. "I _am_ Nobody! And _this_ time, I will _finish_ what I _started_!"

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as the cyclops came charging toward him, muscles rippling with every step: an advantage Luke would struggle to overcome. But Luke was quick and light on his feet, as opposed to the lumbering stupidity of the cyclops. Already, his instincts kicked in, and he leapt out of the way of a well aimed log hurtling toward him. It crashed into Clover's cage and an irritated shout erupted from the satyr.

"Oi! Watch what you're doing, mate!"

Luke laughed recklessly as he charged the creature, his sword glinting excitedly in the flickering firelight. The cyclops swung a clumsy fist in Luke's direction and it narrowly missed him, a breeze tousling his hair as he ducked beneath it, rolling so that the cyclops faced away. With a war cry, Luke charged the creature from behind, springing from the ground to land upon the giant's back: a mistake he soon regretted. He'd intended to plunge his sword through the creature's thick skull and end the fight, but Polyphemus was more intelligent than Luke had anticipated.

The cyclops jerked its head up and down and Luke went flying, landing on the ground with a grunt and a roll, dust pluming around his body. Backbiter did not betray its owner, and Luke almost imagined there to be a comforting glint from the blade as he forced his protesting legs to straighten. Undaunted, he flashed Polyphemus a smirk and returned to battle. A momentary thought about the whereabouts of Maz filtered through his mind, but the charging cyclops soon pushed it away.

Polyphemus' punch missed as Luke slid, baseball-style, beneath and between the cyclops's legs. The beast roared in anger; Luke laughed in response and readied himself as the cyclops prepared to charge again. As Polyphemus took a step forward, though, his assault was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Maz's war cry. She came charging forward, obviously realizing that the Celestial Bronze bullets would do little harm to the thick skin of the cyclops, for now, clutched in her angry fist, was a small Celestial Bronze knife that glimmered with rage in the firelight. Polyphemus roared at her, slapping at her as if she were a fly. But she was too nimble; none of the cyclops's infuriated attempts succeeded.

Meanwhile, Luke busied himself with Clover's cage, glad his battle with Polyphemus had landed him near the satyr.

"No, mate..." the satyr was muttering, "You need to get out of here. Now, do ya hear me? Now! It's not safe, not safe, mate- get out!"

"Who- Polyphemus?" Luke ignored the satyr's advice and continued to wrestle with the chains till they fell loose enough for Clover to extricate himself slowly.

"No, not Polyphemus. The werewolf." Clover hissed in response, and Luke was finally aware of the fear deep within his voice.

"What werewolf?" He asked, but too loudly, for Polyphemus suddenly whirled upon him and charged.

Luke barely had time to throw Clover to the ground before he was thrown himself across the room and into the wall. He lay there at the base of the rock, broken and bleeding and dizzy, watching the proceedings before him through half-lidded eyes and a pounding headache. When Maz attacked, he heard her shout as if it came from a great distance, and when she was slapped aside as if she were no more than a rag doll, his flickering vision beheld her crash, loudly, into the cages at the opposite end of the room. The last one standing was Clover. And he stood tall. The defiance that usually characterized his expression seemed multiplied in the red of the firelight as he dared to size up a cyclops. He looked ridiculous standing there, in his tattered blue jeans and t-shirt from some reunion tour of Journey, facing down the ancient cyclops. Luke couldn't tell if it was fear for the weaponless satyr that brought him to his feet or the strange way the sight instilled a deep courage in him. He felt that it was more the latter, strange as it was, and so he came stumblingly out of the shadows of the wall, Backbiter gripped faithfully in his fist.

Polyphemus laughed at this pitiful display of courage, but then Luke caught Maz's eye, and smiled. Maz lay beside the wall, supported by only one good arm, the other broken and bent in a way that it never ought to be bent in, her regular blaster aimed at the chains that held a large cage of animals all together. She had planned a stampede. And a stampede it was. Polyphemus's laugh was cut off by a cacophony of noise erupting from the stream of animals that came bursting like a tidal wave from the cage behind him.

In confused rage, he whipped around, roaring his anger and disbelief. Luke laughed, pumping a bloody fist into the air.

But the time for victory was far from near.

Desperate to get back at the people that had torn his empire from him, Polyphemus lashed out, and his fist smashed into Clover, who flew, limp, into the bars of the cages lined behind him. Stunned, Luke hurried toward the satyr, but was suddenly cut off by the very stream of animals meant to save them. Polyphemus advanced upon the barely conscious satyr. Fear contorted what could be seen of Clover's face through the streams of blood from his head wounds that wound their way threateningly from his scalp to his chin. He struggled upon bruised or broken limps to get away from the approaching cyclops; the fear of millennium flickered to life in the satyr's eyes as he came face to face with the doom so many of his race had experienced at the hands of cyclopses.

Luke struggled in vain to reach his friend; fear, anger, disbelief surged in his heart as he strained to get through the mass of animals to the one person who had been able to drag him out of the hell he'd lived on Coruscant, the one person that had been able to bring him here, the one person that had cared for him, had been there for him, a constant companion, a constant friend, a constant brother. And as Polyphemus raised his fist for the killing blow, the blow that would crush Clover's skull, if not his entire body, Luke let out an anguished cry of fear.

"_NO!_" He roared, lurching forward desperately.

In slow motion, he watched the fist descend, the mocking smile slide across Polyphemus's face, the way Clover met his eyes and smiled amusedly, as if this were one final joke. And then a grey blur streaked across the room and slammed into Polyphemus's side, throwing the massive cyclops off balance with all the contained force of a bullet. Clover looked up in amazement; both Luke and Maz froze, completely caught off guard by the new arrival of what appeared to be an ally.

The blur straightened when it had pushed Polyphemus a good distance away from Clover, and from a magnificently gilded sheath at its side, it removed a sword made entirely of Imperial Gold. It glinted royally in the light of the fire as the figure raised it and lunged.

The sword slid neatly through Polyphemus's skin and pierced the cyclops's heart. Polyphemus fell dead to the ground without so much as a cry, and the stranger turned, fixing Luke with his vibrant blue eyes. "You're welcome," he said drily.

\- - -

The screech almost shattered Cassian's eardrums, and he shouted in pain when he realized what were his mother's hands were now claws: black, scaly and cold. And then he was rising, rising off the ground, yanked harshly into the air by this strange creature. He looked up to where his mother should have been, hovering over him as she carried him off, and saw none other than a massive bird woman. She had the body of a vulture, her powerful, greasy wings flapping about his head and jostling him with their might. Her face had transformed into that of an old woman: wrinkly and grey. Without a doubt, Cassian knew what it was.

It was a siren that was now in complete control of him, dragging him through the air in a dark storage room to wherever she wished. And fear struck his heart. He recovered from his shock quickly, writhing in the grip of the beast and yelling in anger, his voice reflecting the dark rage that burned within him. His face contorted into an expression of sheer determination as he yanked his right wrist out of the creature's claw and jerked it back to where he was in control of it.

The beast screeched in anger, its body jolting at the change in weight, and Cassian slammed into a stack of crates, crying out as a corner jabbed into his side, sending fiery pain surging through his body from the spot. The pain sent spots to his eyes, dancing in the dark as he tried to regain his whereabouts. He couldn't see in the gloom and he didn't know where he had dropped his blaster, which he knew would be a problem.

And then he remembered the knife Morpheus had given him. Triumph flickered in his eyes, and he reached across his swinging body for the sheath. His hand slid around the hilt of the blade, and a small smile touched his lips despite the burning pain in his side as he slid it out of the sheath and used his momentum to swing himself up high enough to stab the beast in the side. It let out another earth-shattering call as they both fell to the ground, the creature bleeding golden blood that spurted out of the wound and soaked Cassian's front.

Cassian landed beneath the creature, its claws digging into his arms and drawing blood. He cried out in pain, but the pressure was lifted quickly as the siren rolled over and off him, slamming into some crates he couldn't see with an angry caw. He turned himself over onto his stomach and shoved himself into a standing position with a grunt, forcing himself to ignore the pain that ravaged his body.

The creature was before him, perched on claws that dripped a dark red liquid: his blood. He noticed her mouth still curved into a beak, which explained the horrendous caw that erupted out of her when she saw he had regained his bearings. The knife felt strong in his hand, and he thanked Morpheus, wherever he was, that he had given him not just the blaster. The siren advanced, her dark eyes glinting strangely in the dim light.

Cassian froze, watching her movements carefully, anticipating every possible action. And then the creature leapt forward, screeching triumphantly. But Cassian had seen the twitch in her muscles and leapt out of the way so her back was to him. Summoning all his strength of will, he threw himself onto the creature's back and such an explosion of noise arose from its throat that he almost let go, but he had resolved himself to this. Hestia claimed that his was to be a test, a way to prove himself. And prove himself he would. The creature bucked beneath him, causing him to hold on tighter around its neck, the Celestial Bronze knife dangerously close to his own face and jerking toward it all the while as the siren did her best to throw him off. His arms began to scream in pain, but he didn't let go, tightening the grip of his left hand as he struggled to slit the siren's throat. And he came so close.

At the last minute, the creature bucked, this time victoriously, and he slid down its side, landing on the ground with a thump and looking up into the hungry face that stared down at him. Without thinking, he shoved the knife into the creatures side and watched as Ichor, the blood of the gods, streamed violently from the wound. The creature screeched and stumbled back, staring at him in wide-eyed horror, but his face had become stony, incapable of emotion, incapable of pain. Without a moment's hesitation, he leapt forward upon the stumbling creature and drove his knife into her chest.

Immediately, the world seemed to fall apart. From the wound, there erupted a dark mass of shadowy tendrils that shot up into the air and remained there, towering over him. He fell to his knees as exhaustion overtook him, looking up in dread at the mass of twisting and coiling towers of shadow.

Suddenly, images began to play upon it in rapid succession, and he watched with growing horror at what they portrayed. It was Rowan, bloody and broken upon some dirty floor, her Stygian blade just out of reach of her fingertips. It was the sky of some planet, dark and roiling, seeming like it was falling to the ground, consuming the tops of ruined and burning skyscrapers. It was a dark, dark world with shores of glass littering the bank of some unearthly river. It was Rowan again, this time sprinting through some hallway as the walls collapsed around her, fear plastered over her face, Luke's knife clutched in her hand. And then she was turning to him, giving a small salute of two fingers as the world collapsed around her and rocks fell, blocking her and her helpless, joking smile from his view. It was K-2, riding atop the back of some massive metal dragon. And then it was a face he could not mistake. Kronos. The titan looked down at him with fiery eyes in a helmet of darkness, speaking words he could not hear and dared not attempt to understand.

Then it was over. The darkness receded into the siren's body as quickly as it had left, producing a noise as if a great wind had surged through the room and was now gone. Silence reigned. By the glow of the Ichor on the ground, Cassian could see that the siren was still and unmoving. Shoving down all that he had seen, he stood, cautiously moving to its body. It was still alive, but unconscious, and he carefully reached down and took hold of the hilt of his knife, yanking it out of the creature's chest. It twitched when the force of the movement shook it, but remained motionless after that, and Cassian gave it one last look of loathing before he limped off into the storage room, examining the knife.

The glow of the Celestial Bronze had faded, only to be replaced with a ruined material. It was disgusting to behold, more the color of rust than anything else. Black globs of liquid seemed to have cemented themselves to the blade atop of a layer of corroded metal, beneath which the blade seemed to have been dipped in lava and the color had stuck to it. The sight sent a chill down Cassian's spine, and he resisted the urge to drop it, deciding not to look at it as he limped through the room, trying to find his way back.

He had broken a rib or two, he knew that. It was something the irrepressible burning in his side pointed to, but he had no way to check if the gashes in his arms from the siren were infected. And so he trudged along, doing his best to remember which turns the creature had made when flying him away from where she had first tempted him. The image still reigned in his mind of his mother and father, happy, safe. Peace. They were at peace. Peace. When was the last time he'd been at peace? Even as a child, he had fought in rebellion to the corrupted Galactic Republic. And now it was the Empire and his own survival. Yes, the siren had shown him what he desired: peace and his family.

But his life had ripped those things away from him, never for him to attain, and that discovery, more than the haze of pain, exhaustion, fear and anger he lived in, brought anguish to his heart. It was that dull ache that forever persisted, a constant reminder of the hopelessness of his reality. The thoughts plagued him as he stumbled through the dark storage room, his legs barely able to support his body rent with heartache and broken bones. His arms were limp, the knife of what used to be Celestial Bronze barely held in his weak fingers.

Finally, he rounded a corner and made out the shape of his blaster on the floor. Letting out a pent up breath, he hurried toward it and picked it up, sliding out a bullet and holding it up, letting the faint glow illuminate where he was. He forced his eyes to adjust to the minimal light and took a deep breath, steeling himself for the journey ahead and forcing himself to remain calm. His weary footsteps carried him slowly back to the door, and when he finally reached it, he was beyond exhausted, the entirety of his body screaming in protest.

He pushed the door open and involuntarily let out a groan when the light burst into his eyes, blinding him momentarily as he regained his composure. The searing pain in his eyeballs receded, and he was once again able to focus on where he was. A thought entered his head that he should visit the infirmary for his ribs but knew they would ask too many questions and resolved himself to dealing with the injury till Rowan got back and could heal him using ambrosia and nectar, which, he knew, would also heal the wounds on his arms from the siren's claws. He didn't know if they were magical wounds or not, simply because it introduced into the equation whether magical creatures were considered weapons or not. He knew his father would believe they were: tools to be used in "higher schemes".

Which brought his mind back to what he had seen in the dark shadows that came from the creature's body. He would have lied if he said the images didn't terrify him. Even in his exhausted condition, with the siren dead or incapacitated behind him and the closed door, he still resisted the urge to curl into a ball and avoid whatever he had seen. But, looking down at the ruined knife, he knew that this was something he couldn't avoid. And something he could do nothing about at the moment.

With the thought, he dragged himself to his quarters and locked himself in before taking a shower, wrapping a tight layer of cloth around his ribs to secure them, and falling asleep, his body bypassing the throbbing pain in his arms and side.

\- - -

"There is a missing droid that has been deactivated. All personnel are to report to the mess hall for questioning." Came a voice over the intercom between the interspersed blaring of the alarms. Rowan bit back a curse as she bent over the computer, fingers flying quickly over the keys as she typed in Jyn Erso's false name.

Debnoli and her waited with bated breath as the monitor showed it was loading. And loading. And loading.

Finally, a face appeared, and a sigh of relief seemed to burst from both Rowan and Debnoli's lungs. It was that of a woman with a firm jawline and a slightly raised upper lip as if it were in a constant state of being on the verge of tears. Her eyes were green and cold, walled beneath her bold, black eyebrows and brown hair. Most of it had been pulled back into a bun at the back of her head, but the rest framed her face stiffly and reached down to her chin that jutted out in a small ball. Rowan couldn't tell if she fully trusted the woman's emotionless, strangely confident expression, but she shoved away the doubts and searched through Erso's schedule.

Rowan quickly glanced up at the clock that hung on the wall across from her, checking the time, before looking back to the monitor, desperately searching for where Erso would be at the moment.

"Aha!" She exclaimed after a moment, punching a fist in the air. "She's close!"

And then she radioed to Melshi, unable to hide the joy in her voice. "Melshi, are you there? Come in Melshi!" She spoke urgently.

"Melshi to Castellan. I'm here. Did you find it?" His voice was crackling over the radio, which meant a bad signal, but she didn't care. There was too much hope.

"Yes, but there's been a change of plans. We may have set off an alarm. The facility will be clear for a time but we can't waste our chance. Get your men over by the apartment compounds as fast as possible. Once you get to the headquarters, you should be able to take a right and travel along the fence. You'll find it. Don't bring the ship- you'll just give us unwanted attention. We'll meet you there." Rowan commanded rapidly.

"The armor will be too bulky." Debnoli said to her when she turned to him, eyes alight in victory.

"You're right. Get it off. We need to get out of here as quietly as possible." Rowan nodded, and they quickly began to strip off the armor and the borrowed clothing until they were back in their normal garb.

"What's our chance of success, K?" Rowan asked the droid when he went to examine the computer monitor.

"Higher than it used to be." He answered, and Rowan smiled happily.

"Good. Let's get her and get off this planet. I'm not liking the heat." She returned and hit the button to open the door, yanking her small blaster out of her belt as they jogged down the corridor and hurried down the stairs, keeping close to the walls.

Rowan barely paid any attention to the world around her as she began to sprint to the entrance, Debnoli and K-2 on her heels.

"How do we get the door open, K?" She asked when they had reached the entrance, looking hopelessly up at it.

If the droid could have shrugged, it would have, as it grabbed the blaster out of Debnoli's hand and shot it at the keypad, sending the door flying into the roof. "That's how." It said simply and handed the blaster back to Debnoli, who looked impressed and amused.

Rowan couldn't help but laugh until shouts filled the corridor. All three looked back and froze as they watched a patrol of Stormtroopers charge at them, firing blaster bullets in rapid succession.

"Run." She said simply and took off, immediately radioing to Melshi. "Melshi!" She shouted over the Stormtroopers. "Change of plans! We're gonna need the ship! Sorry!"

"It's alright, Castellan! We're taking the ship! It'll give us a chance to get outta this heat anyway!" There was a small laugh on the other end from Melshi, and Rowan laughed in return, turning, aiming and firing on the Stormtroopers that chased them.

The adrenaline running through her veins sent her heart soaring, and she couldn't help but feel happy, excited, fearless. Debnoli was different, his features strained in concentration as he searched desperately for a way out of the mess they had gotten themselves in. They made a sharp right turn onto the sidewalk that led to the apartment compounds, and all three looked up to see the ship slowly descending before them.

"Go! Go! Go!" Rowan shouted, pushing Debnoli forward and covering for them as the ship landed, her blaster firing in rapid succession till it was hot in her hands, her eyes wild with energy.

She glanced behind to see the ship land and Debnoli leap in, followed closely by K-2, and only then did she turn, sprinting the rest of the distance, her legs pumping wildly as she closed in on the ship. Debnoli held out his arms as she drew closer, and the ship took off, slowly rising. She leapt up and gripped Debnoli's forearm as he used her momentum to heave her inside.

She landed on her feet, the door slamming shut behind her as the Stormtroopers began to fire on them. Sweat dripped from her and Debnoli, and she pounded him on the back.

"Thanks, man..." She smiled breathlessly and looked to K-2, who slid into the co-pilot's seat beside Melshi.

The man turned back and nodded to them, smiling triumphantly. "Have we got her?" He asked, excited.

"Yeah. Look for prison transport eight. It should be near here, maybe a little to the right." Rowan instructed, gratefully taking a bottle of water that had been handed to her by one of the men seated on the bench; she recalled him introducing himself as Garouf. "Thanks..." She nodded, gulping down the water before handing it to Debnoli, who finished the bottle.

She checked her blaster, making sure she still had bullets loaded in it, before she returned to looking out the window, searching desperately for the prison transport vehicles in the mud. Finally they came near a lone one, rolling up and down the hills of mud, bouncing and lurching like a small monster in and of itself.

"That's it." K-2 pointed it out to Melshi, who nodded and stood.

Rowan nodded. "Melshi, I want you to go in and get her. You're the most recognizable of us that's part of the Rebellion. Take Debnoli with you. K-2, Garouf, and I will wait outside in case there's trouble. BoShek, I want you to make sure we're ready to get out of here when we get back." She nodded to the last remaining man, who returned the gesture and slipped into the cockpit as K-2 left.

The ship slowly descended back to the earth, and Rowan wiped sweat off her brow, wishing she didn't have to go back out into the heat. They landed beside the transport with a jolt, and Melshi took out his blaster, jumping out first. Debnoli followed immediately after, and then Rowan led K-2 and Garouf after him.

Melshi threw a small electrical bomb to the wheels, and blue light spiderwebbed around them, sending the vehicle to a sudden, jarring halt. Rowan smiled, impressed at the little weapon, and promised herself she'd get one or two later. But there was no time for that. She readied her blaster beside Garouf as Debnoli and Melshi hurried up to the door and attached a small bomb to it, pressing in the detonator and clamping their hands over their ears.

It exploded, throwing the door in, and Melshi followed with the same energy, shooting the stunned Stormtroopers that guarded the prisoners, followed closely by Debnoli. K-2 chose to stay by the door, looking in at all the sudden action, while Rowan stood side by side with Garouf, ready for anything that might come out of the transport.

Something did, but K-2 reacted before anyone else, grabbing the fleeing person in a brief chokehold before slamming them down to the ground. The prisoner took a deep, gasping breath, before shaking their head to clear it and looking up in surprise at the droid.

"Congratulations! You are being rescued! Please do not resist." The droid said simply.

Rowan snorted at the sass and stepped up to the woman. "Listen to the droid, Erso. Nobody's sabotaging my mission, especially not the person I'm rescuing." And she leveled her blaster at the woman's face.

"I'm Liana Hallik. I don't know what you're talking about." The woman sat up, back covered in mud, eyeing the blaster closely.

She looked just as she had in the picture, but Rowan hadn't expected her to have a British accent, though it fit her well.

"Wrong. You're Jyn Erso. Don't worry, we're not here to hurt you." Rowan turned to Garouf. "Get Melshi and Debnoli quickly. We need to get out of here." She commanded and stuck out a hand to Jyn, who warily reached up.

Rowan drew her hand back a moment, cocking an eyebrow. "This doesn't give you the right to knock me out, okay?" She smirked and lowered it back down.

Jyn took it with an amused smile, and Rowan hefted her up, glad they were the same height.

"Get in the ship." Rowan commanded and nodded to K-2, who took Jyn by the upper arm and led her to the U-Wing. Rowan turned back to the transport to see Debnoli and Melshi hurrying out, followed by a prisoner and Garouf. She sighed in relief and herded them into the ship, looking out at the headquarters that loomed in the distance. A sudden sense of foreboding filled her. This had been way too easy.

She stepped into the ship, and the door slid shut behind her, closing out the heat of the planet, though the increased body heat wasn't exactly comforting. The ship lurched as it rose off the ground, and Rowan steadied herself by grabbing a small projection on the wall by the door. She returned to observing the area outside, and then she saw it, exactly what she'd been scared of.

"They have laser towers!" She shouted to K, panic rising in her gut as they struggled higher and higher.

And then the blasts began to fire past them repeatedly, green streaks of light that threatened their every movement. Green streaks of light that threatened their lives. Any hope Rowan had felt disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. The ship began to rise with greater strength, before shooting forward, only to be surrounded by laser towers.

"They're everywhere!" BoShek shouted; anger, frustration and fear mingling in his desperate voice.

Rowan squirmed through the bodies that crowded the ship till she was just behind the cockpit, looking between the heads of K-2 and BoShek. Quietly she prayed over and over that they'd make it through this. Let's go... Let's go... She begged the ship, begged God.

And then there came the sound she was dreading. A loud boom sounded from the back of the ship and Rowan turned, leaping to the window in the door.

"They've taken out the left engine!" She shouted over the screeching of the metal. "Put us down. Somewhere hidden. We need to get out of the air!" She commanded, eyes fiery, and she watched the laser towers anxiously. They needed to get out of this alive.

K-2 put the ship down a few hundred feet outside the prison camp, unable to bring the failing ship any further. They landed with a jerk, and Rowan stumbled forward.

Silence reigned.

"Well, I guess we're making an unexpected stay on Wobani." Rowan said after a moment, opening the door.


	14. Thirteen

It was late at night when the necklace got heavier. Rowan had been out in the cold, amazed at how the hot planet could drop so many degrees an hour after the sun set, wrapped in multiple jackets as she helped BoShek fix the engine. They'd been working for several hours now, fighting the engine to repair it somehow. The shot hadn't completely destroyed it, just taken out the hyperdrive motivator and destroyed some part of the engine Rowan didn't know well enough to name. She crouched in the freezing mud next to BoShek, mainly there to help him when he required it, supervise the process and hand him the instruments he needed. They lay scattered around her, glinting in the light of a small lamp they'd brought out with them.

All but Garouf and Debnoli were still in the ship, warmed by the insulated space inside and hopefully sleeping, watched over by Melshi and K-2. Debnoli and Garouf had volunteered to serve as guards, patrolling the area around the fallen ship and making sure they weren't being hunted down. It was essentially a calm night; freezing, but calm. Rowan felt confident that it was possible to fix the engine, because BoShek had implied that its damage was fixable, though it would take some time. She'd elected to stay with him, and began to regret it a little after the sun went down, throwing the temperatures into what must have been thirty or forty degrees Fahrenheit on Earth.

But she'd stayed calm. Until the necklace got heavier.

Panic surged through her, her heart rate shooting up and her breathing growing rapid. Fear pounded in her mind as she considered all the possible reasons why Cassian could have been in danger and hating the fact that she was helpless to help him. Suddenly she couldn't focus on the work. Her eyes were wide, staring unrecognizably at the tools before her. Images flashed in her mind: Cassian dead, his broken and bloody body replacing Luke's, Cassian bleeding uncontrollably, his face growing pale as life left him, him alone in some dark room, the world falling down about him.

"Rowan!" BoShek's voice called her back to the world around her, and her hand went immediately to the pendent, holding it tightly.

She jerked her head up, meeting his gaze, half illuminated in the dark by the lamp.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concern covering his features.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm- I'm fine." She seemed to struggle regaining her whereabouts, her eyes still wide in fear.

"You don't look fine." BoShek returned. "Go inside and sleep. Tell Melshi to get out here."

Rowan shook her head. "No- no, I won't be able to sleep."

"Then switch places with Debnoli or Garouf. One of them can sleep or help me." BoShek advised, kindly placing a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded, rubbing a hand over her brow. "I- I will. Thanks, BoShek." She turned to him and smiled gratefully.

"Call me Bo. It's easier to pronounce." The man smiled, his eyes gentle.

Rowan smiled through the fear that churned in her stomach. "Alright, Bo. Thanks."

She stood, brushing the mud off her knees and immediately regretted it when her fingers protested against the freezing cold. She stretched momentarily before turning to find Debnoli or Garouf. They were walking rounds in a wide radius around the ship, large blasters at the ready in their hands. When she spotted them, she hurried to them, hugging her jacket tight around her frame as she slipped and stumbled through the stubborn mud.

Garouf noticed her first and waved her over. She sped up her pace, jogging to him.

"Hey, Rowan." Debnoli greeted when she arrived, and she nodded breathlessly in turn.

"Whoever's more tired should go back to the ship. I'm replacing you." She answered Garouf's questioning expression.

"Oh, good." Debnoli nodded, looking incredibly relieved.

Garouf gave a small laugh. "Deb's exhausted."

Rowan smiled amusedly. "I can see why." She turned to Debnoli. "I haven't properly thanked you for coming with me to get the info. You were very brave, and without you, we wouldn't have made it. The Rebellion owes you a great debt. I'm proud to have worked with you." She said simply, gratefully, knowing Debnoli's full range as an incredible soldier and hoping that, should she be forced to work with anyone else for the Rebellion, it would be him.

Debnoli smiled. "It was a pleasure working with you, Miss Castellan."

She laughed. "We're not done yet. Now go, sleep. Tell Melshi to get out and help BoShek while you're at it. The man needs it."

Debnoli nodded, indicating he understood, and handed Rowan his blaster. She took it gratefully, though she regretted that the metal was cold, not alleviating her already cold palms. She watched with Garouf as the man scampered off toward the light of the lamp by the ship.

And then she turned to Garouf, a small smile on her face. "Shall we?" She asked, gesturing to the path they had been walking.

The man nodded, sighing a little. "Might as well."

And they began to walk their rounds, side by side, silently listening and watching for any movement. Rowan's thoughts were preoccupied, though, as the necklace remained heavier for what seemed like forever, each second knowing that Cassian was deeply in danger and that she could do nothing about it.

\- - -

Sometime around midnight, BoShek fixed the engine. Rowan and Garouf had been continually making their rounds, silent as the grave and hoping they wouldn't end up in one soon. Which had sent Rowan into wondering whether the Empire actually _made_ graves for the people they killed. The thought consumed her, mostly because she didn't have the heart to focus on anything else, and she was just moving to ask Garouf when they passed by the ship, and BoShek gave a loud hoot of triumph. Both Rowan and Garouf spasmed in fear, jerking their blasters to the ready and looking out cautiously at the world around them, its coldness shrouded in darkness and the barely perceptible shapes of the dunes that surrounded them. They rose from the ground like small giants, legions of them advancing in rows toward the ship, reminding Rowan unsettlingly of the war against Gaea. A chill ran down her spine before she realized Garouf was laughing beside her.

She looked over to him quickly, and he smiled, gesturing with the tip of his blaster to behind her. Confused, she looked over, her eyebrows knitted together. Behind her, BoShek was standing, fists in the air and a wild smile on his face. In unison, Rowan and Garouf sprinted over to him, hope filling them. He was standing over his work, hands greasy but eyes bright. He turned to them when they reached him, and a grin, so proud and so excited, spread over his face till it split it wide with joy.

The man simply gestured to the engine, unable to explain with words his pride in what he had accomplished. Both Rowan and Garouf looked down and a smile split across Rowan's face. She put a hand on BoShek's shoulder, eyes bright with joy.

"You, my friend, are a life-saving genius." She almost laughed the words out, so great was her joy. They'd get back to Yavin 4. She'd find out what had happened with Cassian. She assumed he wasn't dead. If he was, she had a feeling she would know by now. Kronos would have returned. Life as she knew it would have ended.

But she had no time for such fears at the moment. She turned to Garouf, who seemed equally as joyful. "Get in and get warm. I want Melshi and K-2 out here as fast as possible. It's time we got that robot to work a little. He's been far too comfortable for the past couple hours."

Garouf laughed. "Will do, Rowan." And he hurried into the warmth.

Rowan nodded to BoShek. "You go, too. You've deserved far more than warmth, but that's all I can give till we get back to the base."

"Honestly ma'am," BoShek smiled happily, "No reward could possibly be better."

At this, Rowan threw back her head and laughed. "Good. I have a feeling the Rebellion won't exactly provide satisfaction."

BoShek grinned and nodded. "Maybe not. I'll take my leave, miss."

Rowan smirked. "Go." She waved him off, and waited for Melshi and K-2, eagerly bouncing on her feet and shivering in the cold. They arrived soon, Melshi leading the droid, who immediately recognized Rowan.

"You know- you should go inside, Rowan." The droid stated simply when he saw her. "Extensive exposure to cold is detrimental to your health. Cassian would disapprove."

"Cassian's not here." Rowan observed, smirking. "Not to mention, I'd go insane in there. Now," Here she nodded to Melshi, indicating she was speaking to him, "Garouf tells me they have a shield gate over the planet during the night to prevent ships leaving and entering. It's operated from the planet so we don't have to worry about them activating it when we leave. They trust too much in their laser towers. Which, if my plan works, will be their downfall." And, with a mischievous smirk, she explained the plan to Melshi, whose lips slowly widened into a smile that lit up the entirety of his face.

\- - -

The sun was rising when the trio returned to the ship, exhausted but excited nonetheless. Anticipation filled Rowan, giving her energy despite the constant shiver in her bones, the cough that racked her body and the huge bags beneath her eyes. As they entered the ship, stepping into the warmth that washed over them, Rowan was vaguely aware of Jyn Erso's eyes following her closely, confused but silent. Rowan had to admit her contentment with this. The more questions she had to answer, the more her exhaustion would increase. K-2 and Melshi hurried to the cockpit, sliding into their seats, Melshi's face pale in fatigue.

"Melshi... Melshi..." Rowan was aware of the weakness in her voice, but chose to ignore it. A fit of coughs overtook her, and she bent double in pain as they ripped out of her lungs. A small, grim chuckle left her mouth after the fit was over. "Don't drive. Debnoli, you can fly right?"

The man nodded. "I can, miss."

"Then do. Whatever happens, obey my commands. Don't question, just do." Rowan told him, closing the door and shutting out the steadily warming planet as she did so. She watched the sun rise, realizing with a smirk that she didn't know which direction it rose in and how far away from home she was. And then it hit her. She didn't _have_ a home.

Involuntarily, she rubbed the mark on her hand, feeling the ridges that marked the brand. She'd memorized them in the days since she'd earned it, almost tracing herself into it. She traced the loneliness, the pain, the abandonment, the fear. She felt the longing, the sorrow, the memory. And she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the mark had been with her all along. What had been burned into her heart had simply formed on her hand.

But the thoughts were pushed out of her mind when Garouf spoke, his voice breaking her daze. She looked up.

Seeing she hadn't heard him the first time, he restated what he had said earlier. "It's time."

A smirk spread across Rowan's face. "Let's give 'em what they asked for." And she turned to the window, watching the world around them. She held up her hand to Debnoli, indicating for him to wait.

"Get off the ground, but hover only." She commanded, and Debnoli did as she asked.

The ship felt unsteady beneath her as they rose slowly, but surely into the air, and once again, Rowan promised herself that she'd tell Mon Mothma of BoShek's service to the Rebellion.

She turned to Melshi, sitting on the bench beside Jyn, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. "Light em up." She said, and Melshi smirked, pressing a small detonator in his hand.

"Alright!" She called to Debnoli, hurrying over to the cockpit so that she stared between his and K-2's heads. "Higher... Higher..." She coaxed slowly, and Debnoli obeyed her.

They rose higher and higher into the sky until they were above the dunes and looking out on the prison camp. And Debnoli laughed. Beneath them lay the wasted land, but in various locations, huge machines were now in ruins, exploding violently and at random. The laser towers were no more.

Rowan smiled at Debnoli's mirth. "Now gun it!" She commanded, and Debnoli didn't have to be asked twice. They were in hyperspace before a second thought passed through any of their heads. The stars lengthened into lines, and Rowan let out a victorious hoot, high-fiving Melshi, her excitement winning over. And then a coughing fit seized her and she stumbled forward, bringing her mouth to the crook of her elbow and doubling over. When she stood, Melshi was at her side, guiding her to a seat he lowered from the wall, concern on his face.

"Rest, miss. You've done enough." He smiled warmly, and she obediently let him lower her into the seat.

Her head fell back against the metal wall, finding it strangely comfortable for her weary body. A smile flashed across her lips as her eyes slid closed and her breathing regulated itself.

"That was awesome..." She sighed, contented. "Totally worth it..."

Across from her on the bench, BoShek laughed in agreement. Overall, the mood of the ship had lightened. No longer were they fending for their lives. They were on the way home, headed back to safety. Rowan's eyes slid open, observing all in the room. K-2 and Debnoli still manned the cockpit, the dashboard completely under control through their guidance. Across her sat BoShek, eyes closed, head supported by his hands with his elbow on his knees in some desperate attempt to get as much sleep as possible. Melshi had stretched out on the floor, fast asleep and using a duffel bag as a pillow. Garouf sat at the entrance to the cockpit, his back pressed against the wall with his head relaxed against the metal and his eyes closed. On the bench beside BoShek sat Jyn Erso. Her eyes met Rowan's and they watched each other for a moment, curious boring into bloodshot. The other prisoner they had rescued sat curled against the wall, watching the movement of the ship.

"You're Rebels, aren't you?" And Rowan looked at Jyn, the one who had spoken.

Rowan shook her head negatively. "They are." And she gestured to the men she had worked so hard with and trusted so much, before pointing to herself. "I'm not."

"But you're working with them." The statement was a fact that demanded an explanation, a disguised question. Evidently Jyn had her doubts, and Rowan didn't blame her.

"Yes I am. The Rebellion's like any other movement, you know. When you get what you need, you use it. They needed me, they used me. I totally understand." She shrugged.

Jyn nodded in understanding, too, sympathizing with what the strange woman before her had said. It seemed as if Rowan, too, was of the same bent as the Rebellion itself in what she had just described, and because of it, Jyn found herself trusting the woman more.

And so the two women watched each other, analyzing and questioning wordlessly. For her part, Rowan found she understood, if not trusted, the real Jyn Erso more than the picture she'd seen in the headquarters of Wobani and had a strange prophetic feeling that she'd be seeing and working with the woman again in the future.

\- - -

Cassian was waiting for them on the landing pad. His ribs still burned somewhat, the reason for the little sleep he'd gotten the night before, along with the images he'd seen in the dark tendrils of shadow and their incessant haunting of his mind's eye. He watched as the U-Wing landed, his anxiety boiling in his gut at the possibility that Rowan might not step off. But she did, following a larger group of passengers.

She did some directing, commanding a man she had worked with- Cassian recalled his name being Melshi- to escort a woman in one direction, followed by another man escorting yet another newcomer, this one male. And still he waited as she spoke to the remaining two men, both of whom he didn't recognize but had seen her set off with. He remained where he was, leaning against a pillar, as Rowan was approached by General Draven. Her conduct was the most formal he had ever seen it, and he had to admit he was impressed. But his attention was pulled away from her when K-2 approached him.

"Cassian." The droid greeted.

Cassian looked up. "K." He nodded.

"Rowan needs to rest. She hasn't slept all this trip, and she is sick. Please remind her to take care of herself. I believe she will listen to you." K-2 said suddenly, and Cassian cocked his head, confused.

"Why?"

"She respects you far more than she respects me."

Cassian remained confused, straightening out, his back rubbing against the pillar as he adjusted where it supported him, his mouth parting slightly in a small oval. "Why do you say that?"

"Because she obeys you but never me." K-2 returned, his voice annoyed. "And her sarcasm is better toward you. Not to mention, you're both half-bloods."

Cassian smirked, patting K-2 on the shoulder, which he found to be a stretch. "I'm sorry, K. Do you want me to tell her to respect you?"

"Yes. I do." K-2 returned.

At which point Rowan appeared, fingering her sword-ring, her backpack upon her shoulders. Cassian took her in and knew immediately what K-2 was speaking of. Her eyes were bloodshot and wide, struggling to stay open. She looked weak, as if she were on the verge of falling over but refusing her body the luxury. He couldn't deny the relief and joy that spread through him at the sight of her alive, even if she was tired and sick. But her own face was far from reflecting the same emotions.

It was angry. And so was her voice when she spoke. "I want an explanation. Now." She demanded, eyes blazing in some attempt to block the worry that raged beneath the surface. She'd never been this scared about anyone, unless it was Luke when he'd sacrificed himself to destroy Kronos and the many weeks that followed as he was slowly brought to health.

"You know, my necklace got heavier, too..." Cassian trailed off, hoping to calm her down through sympathy, but she wasn't fazed and interrupted his next attempt to speak.

"I was on a mission. You weren't. I was out fighting. You were here, where you should have been safe." She persisted.

For some reason, this angered Cassian. Maybe it was because he had been just as worried, or maybe because he didn't enjoy his dependence on Rowan and the fact that she felt the need to protect him. He didn't know, but irritation stirred in him, and it edged his voice when he spoke. "I'm sorry- you said you weren't even safe from monsters on Earth. You said they hunted demigods all the time, and you had no rest. I'm a demi-titan and apparently the focus of a war right now. Forgive me if I attracted more monsters than you expected."

The sarcasm was thick in the last sentence, but Rowan bypassed it. "Doesn't matter. I want to know what happened. You're injured, and you've seen things that scare you. I can sense that. Explain." Her eyes, though, had softened when she realized the effect of what she had said, and her heart dropped when she realized she might have deeply offended him, the opposite effect of what she had wanted to do.

"Not until you rest. K told me you were sick, and you look as if you're about to die." Cassian returned, concern slipping into his voice as he accepted the unspoken apology from Rowan.

Rowan shook her head negatively. "I'm not that sick; it's just a cou-" And she doubled over, coughing loudly and deeply, the noise wet and cracking, causing Cassian a great amount of distress.

"Just a cough?" He attempted to smirk, to joke, but the worry that filled him prevented that. He helped her straighten out, wincing at the pain in his side, and she did, watching him with grateful eyes.

"Fine." She nodded, face contorted in pain but resigned to her fate. "I'll take a shower or something."

"No. I'll take you to the infirmary. You'll be better there." Cassian put a hand on her shoulder, leaning down a little in an attempt to force her to meet his eyes.

Again, she shook her head negatively. "Don't. They freak out when they treat demigods. I have nectar and ambrosia. I'll be fine, just let me get cleaned up, and then we'll talk."

Cassian nodded, and Rowan returned the motion, seeming reluctant to walk away, but shrugging off whatever she felt and moving forward, before Cassian stopped her by calling her name. She turned, eyebrows knit together in concern.

"I... Do you have any ambrosia with you? I broke my ribs and my arms..." He trailed off, unwilling to explain.

Rowan's eyes widened. "You know what? Just come with me. I'll help you, and then you can go eat."

\- - -

Luke decided, as the four of them hurried back through the maze of underground caverns, that Clover weighed far more than he looked. The satyr was leaning heavily on him as they followed Maz, who followed the sudden new addition to their party, the "werewolf" Clover had attempted to warn Luke about. Clover seemed indignant that the creature he feared had actually saved his life, and Luke couldn't help but inwardly chuckle at the satyr's wounded pride. Evidently Clover was less amused.

"So he shows up, saves my life, and we're just supposed to trust him like that?" He whispered to Luke.

Luke shrugged with his free shoulder; the other, supporting the satyr, made their shadows look like the two-headed circus attractions that him and Rowan had watched in cartoons all those years ago. The thought of Rowan made his head hurt. He had a feeling, deep in his bones, that the prophecy had a lot to do with her... and a lot to do with the man that was hurriedly leading them.

"Yes. You are." The answer to Clover's question came from the man himself.

It was Luke's turn to be irritated. "Who are you, anyway?"

The werewolf stopped in his tracks and turned to face the rest of them, bustling along, injured in various places, behind him. In a flash of drama, the man gracefully extended his arms and bowed mockingly. "I am Romulus, son of Mars, the god of war."

Clover's eyes widened. "Romulus... Romulus, as in the founder of Rome?" He stumbled over his words.

Romulus nodded. "Yes," he said, though Luke couldn't help but notice the flash of sorrow in his eyes, the grim tone in his voice, "Romulus, as in the founder of Rome, exiled for his crimes against the Olympians and his people."

"But you died... like four thousand years ago." Clover's amazement persisted.

The shadows of the caverns made it difficult to see the entirety of the man's face, though the lines of age about his eyes tightened. "My death was faked. Lupa gave me the gift, or the curse, of immortality upon my exile. She believed I had done a great thing in my founding of an empire that would bring the world to its knees. It has taken me these four thousand years to understand that, while Rome was good in little, it was wrong in much. I gave Earth civilized culture, but the amount that I killed in my attempts to do so makes the good of my city, my nation, my _empire_, pale in comparison to the bad."

As he spoke, his voice was grave, old, tired, and suddenly Luke could see the age in his eyes that glinted in what little light filtered into the caverns from the massive fire they had left behind with Polyphemus's corpse. Romulus was old, and not just in years.

Silence suddenly overwhelmed the four. Luke noticed Maz watching the werewolf, the god, with compassionate eyes, and remembered that Maz herself was over a thousand years old. He imagined his own life, dragging along for hundreds of thousands of years, his regrets not fading, but growing with time, his guilt made plain to him every waking hour, every waking day, with nothing, no action he could do, to purge himself of that pain. He suddenly realized what a blessing mortality was, how, even if the life he lived afterward were to stretch into an eternity, death would be the door through with he could leave all his guilt behind. As he pondered, his eyebrows knit together, Clover felt his charge's body stiffen in thought.

Suddenly, Luke broke the silence. "Why are you helping us?"

Romulus, who had been watching the effect of his words on the group, suddenly fixed his eyes upon Luke's, blue clashing against blue, the pained brilliance of immortality against the pained dullness of mortality.

Romulus laughed grimly. "Because you need help. The war you and your people are about to face will dwarf all others in comparison, Luke."

"You mean the prophecy." Luke stated, dread seeping into his gut.

"I mean the prophecy." Romulus confirmed, nodding grimly.

"Who are we fighting?"

Romulus paused for a moment; pain, pity, sorrow, even fear passed through his eyes. His face contorted with dread and compassion, and he searched desperately for the words to answer, but looking before him, upon these injured mortals, bleeding, broken, still moving, he was suddenly filled with courage and pity. They were strong; they would prevail; but he didn't know how many they would lose before they did.

"Kronos intends to inhabit the body of his only half-blood son through his death. Rowan is currently with him, protecting him. With that foothold, he will go to Earth, to join in the alliance that your friends currently face. The alliance..." Romulus sighed. The dread in the room deepened.

"The alliance is between Tartarus and Ouranos, the father of Kronos. Together, they are more powerful than any force that any world has ever seen."

Luke swallowed past the fear choking him. "What do we need to do?"

"We need a ship."


	15. Fourteen

Nothing could have been more refreshing than the shower. The warm, soothing water had run down her limbs and bathed her body in relief as she stood beneath the faucet, unwilling to move, simply breathing. No nap, no meal, no drink could have been as rejuvenating as the shower.

Or so Rowan ruminated as she stepped out into her room. She assumed she could call it "her room", now that she'd been staying in it for what felt like forever. Before the shower, she'd asked Cassian no questions as she'd healed his ribs and the strange claw marks on his arms, knowing she needed to attend to her own problems before more discussions followed. But now that she had showered and dressed, insatiable anxiety and curiosity set into her heart, and she hurried to his room.

He opened the door at her first knock, and she found herself inside the room for the second time in her life.

"At least I don't have to break in again," she joked with him when she saw his face, and he smirked. He gestured her to a chair beside the desk that occupied his room while he sunk into the couch.

Rowan's eyes wandered around the space, taking it all in. It was just as it had been the night of the nightmare, but now Rowan noticed something was off.

"You legitimately have no personal belongings, do you?" She raised her eyebrows as she spoke. "Like no pictures or posters or _anything_..."

She jerked her head back to Cassian when he snorted in laughter, his own eyes staring absentmindedly at the walls and furniture. "Mostly I'm too busy, to be honest."

"That..." Rowan gave a small chuckle. "Is depressing." And she yanked a small pocket knife that BoShek had given her from her pocket, flicked open the blade and carved a jagged "hello" into the desk.

"Problem solved." She stated simply as she admired her handiwork.

She turned back to Cassian, who was silently chuckling. "Thank you."

"Now," Her voice grew graver than she wanted, but her dread was as great. "What happened?"

\- - -

Rowan's eyes had slowly widened throughout the entire story, but when Cassian drew out the now-ruined Celestial Bronze knife, Rowan's face reflected a fear and confusion rivaled by nothing he'd said before. Wordlessly, she held out her hands, and he gently placed the knife in them.

She examined it slowly, running a finger down the blade with care as she felt each new ridge and bump in the corroded material. Cassian waited anxiously for her to speak.

Finally, she did, lowering the knife to her knees, her face mesmerized. "This is... This is beyond... I've never seen anything like this..."

"Do you know what might have caused it?" Cassian asked, hoping beyond hope that she might.

"Well... Sirens are immortal, so it might just be because you attempted to kill an immortal being, but people have done that before, and this didn't happen. Did the siren secrete any acid?" She looked up, hoping he would say yes.

"No, why?" Cassian raised his eyebrows.

"Luke once had a knife that got destroyed by a monster's acid, so I think the only thing that Celestial Bronze is particularly vulnerable to is acid, but if not, then..." Fear stabbed Rowan's gut, and she dreaded what she knew.

"Then what?" Cassian's voice was scared.

"The only thing I can think of is some form of dark magic. But I've never seen it do _this_." She looked upon the knife with dread.

"Okay..." Cassian trailed off. "What about the visions?"

With an effort, Rowan jerked her attention to what he had explained he'd seen. "Demigods have dreams occasionally that are essentially visions of what might happen in the future or of gods warning them of something or even metaphorical versions of what's happening in the world or what's about to happen. It seems like you saw visions of what will happen in the future. But, in that case, someone _wanted_ you to see that. And I don't know who. You generally can't trace the dream back to the person who gave it to you. There's a chance Morpheus would have sent you that, but he works in dreams, not in visions."

"Can the other gods send visions like that?" He asked suddenly.

"Yeah." Rowan nodded.

"Would it have been Persephone?"

Rowan looked up at the randomness of the question and cocked an eyebrow.

"The sirens were her handmaidens, right? It would make sense that she would use one to send a message." Cassian explained.

Rowan nodded, her eyes lighting up. "I see what you mean... But then there's the dark magic..."

"Someone might have hijacked her attempt." He mused.

"But who?" Rowan's voice was unfocused, distracted, as her mind raced with all the possibilities and she fought back the dread that filled her.

"I- I don't know... Was Kronos ever capable of dark magic?" Cassian asked.

"I don't know if titans are. I've met a few protogenoi who can use dark magic or, at least, their powers are centered around it." Rowan returned. "But most of them live in Tartarus. I don't know how they'd be able to affect anything here. When the titans and the gods appeared, it seems as if their powers diminished."

"Who are the most powerful protogenoi?" Cassian asked.

"Well... There's Gaea, but you know what happened to her. Ouranos was defeated by the titans- Kronos and co-overthrew him. And then there's Tartarus himself, but he wouldn't sink to doing this. Generally he just naps and watches after what happens in Tartarus."

"But there's the possibility." Cassian prodded.

"But there's the possibility." Rowan agreed. "And, if so, either he's had a change of heart, or something's going on here that is far more catastrophic than Kronos trying to regain power."

"I've been thinking..." Cassian began.

"Oh, no- don't do _that_." Rowan cut him off, smirking.

Cassian gave a laughing smile. "It's about something Octavian said." He noticed Rowan's face grow dark. "He said that Kronos is just the beginning."

"If Octavian is telling the truth for the first time in his blasted life, then his words shouldn't be taken lightly. But Octavian is great at getting into people's heads. He might just be trying to make us focus on something else while Kronos gets closer to killing and possessing you." She returned, noticing Cassian's flinch at the last statement. "I'm sorry..." She apologized hastily, meaning the words more than she could express, and resorting only to repeating it, this time slowly. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Cassian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry you got dragged into this mess. I'm sorry your dad is Kronos, and I'm sorry you have to deal with the consequences of that. It- it doesn't seem fair, does it?" She sighed out the last question, her heart throbbing with emotion, and met his eyes, unflinchingly this time, compassion etched into every line of her face.

"It's not your fault." Cassian swallowed past the fear in his throat. "I'll find a way to survive."

"I guess I'm sorry you have to have that attitude, too." Rowan chuckled.

"It's your attitude on most everything." He returned, smirking a little, though it seemed more an understanding smile.

Rowan nodded. "That it is, isn't it." There was a long awkward silence before she spoke again, restraining a yawn as she handed the ruined knife back to Cassian. "Well, if I'm going to survive anything else, I need to sleep." And she stood, moving to the door.

"See you later." Cassian called after her.

She turned, the door open. "Is there gonna be a meeting about Jyn?" She asked suddenly.

"Yes. I'm going- why?" Cassian stood.

"If there's another mission, I want to be on it." She answered.

"I'll see if we can get started tomorrow, then. You can sleep tonight." Cassian returned and smiled a little to himself as she left the room and moved to hers.

\- - -

Rowan's sleep seemed to have lasted only for an hour before she was violently awoken by Cassian shaking her vigorously and shouting her name.

"Get up!" He yelled.

"Meh..." She made a half heated swipe at him, missing by a few inches.

"We're leaving in an hour- now _move_!" And he stepped off the ladder to the bunk as she rose sleepily, her hair plastered to the side of her face from where she'd laid on the pillow.

"I'm coming..." She groaned as she half climbed, half fell off the ladder in an attempt to get to the floor.

Cassian was smirking when she looked up.

"What do I need to bring?" She asked, grabbing her backpack hastily and yanking the zipper open.

"Weapons, food, nectar and ambrosia." Cassian instructed, and she did as he ordered, bustling about her small room while he stood off to the side, watching her with arms crossed.

"Where are we going?" Rowan asked as she packed, keeping her eyes focused on her work and simply listening to Cassian's words.

"Jedha." He answered. "We're starting there."

Rowan froze and looked up, incredulous. "Jedha? That's a war zone."

"I know. But the cargo pilot is with Saw Gerrera."

"How in the _world_ are we gonna get into Saw Gerrera's place? I had a run-in with him a year ago, and he almost tore me limb from limb 'cause I didn't care enough about his cause." She turned back to her backpack and finished shoving bags of ambrosia into the small space left.

Cassian chuckled behind her. "Then you didn't have much tact. Jyn Erso is our ticket in. She knew Saw for a while, and we think he'll recognize her enough to let us in."

Rowan straightened and swung her backpack on her shoulders, a mischievous smirk on her face. "So basically we're going on nothing but hope." Her grin widened. "I like plans like that."

Cassian laughed. "I though you might." He stated in response, and she made no return as she belted her blaster holster onto her hip and around her thigh.

She straightened up, met his eyes and nodded that she was ready. "Let's get this show on the road."

\- - -

Maz was a generous benefactor to their trip, and by the time Luke, Clover, and Romulus had loaded the U-Wing, the sun had risen, and the long night fraught with battle and fear was over. They would be leaving Takodana with both hope and Polyphemus's dead corpse behind. Romulus had explained that the ship they needed was, in fact, on another planet, a planet by the name of Jakku. When Clover asked why the U-Wing would not be enough, Romulus simply told him to imagine flying through the hottest part of the center of the Earth in an insulated metal can. Clover nodded in understanding, gulping at the idea of being baked alive. Luke only looked amused, and entered the cockpit of the ship, slipping in beside Romulus.

They were facing the sunrise from there, and the brilliant sun illuminated the dust that floated about the cockpit as if they were tiny fireflies. He wondered if the sun rose here the same way it did home, just as Rowan was doing far away on Wobani, headed back to Yavin 4. He wondered about her, too, about what Romulus had said. And he wondered who the son of Kronos could be, to have survived for so long with such a father.

The sun rose slowly, the ship mirroring its actions when Clover and Romulus were fully settled. Pink and yellow rays of light illuminated the forest planet below, with its massive lake, sandy shores and vast expanses of woodland stretching as far as the eye could see. Maz Kanata stood upon the beach, her small frame silhouetted against the glittering, blinding reflection of the sun on the water. Luke watched her hand rise in farewell, and resisted the urge to wave back, sorrow choking him. He would miss Maz, miss her motherly wisdom, her profound perceptiveness.

But she, the sun and the beautiful planet were gone then, fading into the black of space as Romulus sent the ship into lightspeed and Clover curled up in the corner upon their bags to take a long-needed nap. Luke had lost all desire to sleep long ago, and the presence of the immortal beside him didn't help. Romulus was unnervingly silent for the first little while of the trip, his brilliant blue eyes fixed upon the dashboard and the window.

The silence became unbearable when it began to stretch into hours, and Luke broke it abruptly. "You said that Rowan was with Kronos's son. How do you know?" He asked the question that had been burdening his heart for a while.

"What? Oh." Romulus looked surprised, jerked out of his musings. "I saw her at a trading post on the Ring of Kafrene. I spoke to her, even." He explained.

"Is she..." Luke didn't know how to phrase all the worries pounding in his mind in one question.

Romulus understood. "She's okay, Luke. A little less okay emotionally, but okay."

Silence reigned. Luke felt sick with guilt.

"I should have been there for her. I shouldn't have left." He muttered, the words filled with self-loathing as he mentally whipped himself for all his mistakes. He was a fool; he knew he was a fool. When would he do something right? When would he be able to stop harming others? When would he finally get himself together?

"But you weren't, and you can't change that now." Romulus's words were harsh, a blow to Luke that he knew he deserved, a blow he repeated over and over in his mind for the sake of his own punishment.

"I know." He nodded, anguish contorting his expression.

"No- no, don't get me wrong- that doesn't make you a bad person." Romulus clarified, not missing Luke's pain for a moment. "It just means it's high time for you to go back."

Luke nodded acceptingly. Romulus simply watched the young man, pity etched into the lines of his face. The boy's path had been difficult. Conversation was swallowed up in silence, and after a while, Luke moved to the back of the ship, Clover replacing him- rather warily- at the front. He still hadn't gotten used to the idea of the werewolf being on their side in this fight.

Luke spread out one of the blankets Maz had given him upon the hard floor of the ship and stretched out on his back, folding his hands across his stomach and watching the ceiling above him shift with the movements of the ship. The constant rocking soon lulled him to sleep, and his breathing grew deep and controlled. He didn't dream, the exhaustion of his travels washing over him in waves, drowning him deep into the oblivion of his eyelids.

\- - -

"_Strange weather reports have come in from all across the nation today. Up in Washington, they're seeing tornadoes by the dozen touch down at once in each county, and wildfires of record-braking area are springing up in California. Our sources tell us that there have also been severe thunderstorms covering all of the Midwest, with barely a break in cloud cover at all. A massive hurricane is also heading for the Florida Keys, but it looks like it might turn and run its path down the whole of the state. All counties at the southern tip have been told to evacuate and hotel space in Jacksonville is running out..._"

The words from the news report filtered lazily through the stifling summer heat, buzzing like the cicadas lounging outside through the open windows. The deadly calm of the ocean only a few feet away from the seaside villa contrasted sharply with the bustling activity indoors. Men and women hurried to and fro about the home, many bearing weapons of various shapes and sizes. Swords hung in scabbards; quivers stuffed to the brim with arrows were strapped securely to backs; spears were used as walking sticks or leaned against the walls.

Tables had begun to take up the entirety of the floor space, and two men soon entered the busy living room, waddling as they carried another heavy oak table into the already crowded space. Maps and strategic figurines littered the tables' surfaces.

Suddenly a man burst into the room, panic exploding on his face. All activity froze.

"What happened?" A woman spoke, moving forward, a toga gracing her figure, though her face seemed wasted from much torment and hardship.

"It's- it's..." The man struggled for the words to describe what he had seen. His hair was a ragged mess, pulled back but still persistently hanging in his face; his eyes were tired, this new panic the only emotion that seemed to have sparked expression in his eyes in a long time aside from dread and despair. Baggy clothes hung from his frame, an obvious symbol of malnourishment. War had ravaged him almost as much as it had done the woman before him.

"Leo, what happened?" Her voice was harsher this time.

"The sky..." He gasped. "The sky is falling. It's _actually_ falling." There was a maniacal laugh.

"Show me." The woman commanded, and he led the way through the rest of the house to the back door.

The pair quickly exited, met with the sight of yet another man running up toward them. His messy black hair blew wildly in the wind, his sea-green eyes filled with dread.

"Percy!" The woman greeted.

"Reyna..." He gasped, coming to a halt before her and catching his breath for a moment. "Look." And he turned, pointing to the horizon.

The three of them stood there, watching with unspeakable dread, as shreds of a misty grey slowly slunk from the clouds above to the stormy depths far away.

"That's not rain." Leo noted, and Reyna nodded knowingly.

"Then the attack has begun." The words were a death toll falling from her lips. "Ouranos is on the move." She suddenly looked to Percy. "I need you to contact Tyson; it's time to start the attack."

"And our... _other_ asset?" His look was significant, but tired. His youth had seemingly evaporated, replaced with an age and experience his eyes had never known. His face was haggard, barely shaven, and up close, his messy hair lost its wild and reckless look; it was simply the result of sleeplessness and business.

"Yes..." Reyna gave him a pitying look. "It's time to employ our other asset."

Leo simply looked at his feet.


	16. Fifteen

The landing pad was just as busy as usual when Cassian and Rowan arrived, her frustratedly shoving earbuds into her stubbornly resistant bag.

"You know you're not gonna need those, right?" Cassian gestured to her, and she groaned, giving the earbuds one last shove before yanking the zipper closed on the bag.

She looked up, suddenly realizing he had spoken to her. "Hm? Oh! Probably not, but you never can tell, ya know?"

Cassian smirked and looked back in the direction of their ship, his eyes scanning the chaotic mess for Draven, whom they had been commanded to meet. Rowan helped as much as possible, trusting in the revulsion of her gut to reveal to her the man she so hated to see. It finally did, and she couldn't help but make a face when she saw him, standing beside a young woman. She pointed the pair out to Cassian, who thanked her, and the two readjusted their path in the direction of the general and the woman, who was revealed to be none other than Jyn Erso upon closer inspection.

"Captain Andor. Miss Castellan." Draven greeted them with a cold nod when they were close.

Rowan raised her eyebrows and gave a look as to say: "well, you can't expect everyone to change." Cassian was the only one to notice it, and he suppressed a chuckle. He had a feeling Rowan's hopes for Draven's future kindness would never be realized.

"General." Cassian spoke a greeting for the both of them.

"I hope you both slept well." Rowan seemed impressed with this show of familiarity, but her face fell when the general moved on quickly. "You know the mission; we need access to Galen Erso and information on the Death Star. I cannot convey to you the importance of this; it _must_ be a success-"

Draven's unnecessary ramblings were cut off by Jyn. "And my _father_," this she emphasized as if to combat the coldness of the general, "when we return, will you grant him asylum?"

Nothing moved in Draven's eyes. "We will do our best." He turned back to Cassian and Rowan. "Now go, and may the force be with you."

He walked with them to Cassian's U-Wing, but as they came close, he placed a hand on Cassian's arm, separating him from Rowan and Jyn, who continued onward, noting Draven's obvious intent to speak with Cassian alone in his expression. Rowan knit her eyebrows together in confusion and concern, watching Cassian and Draven speak over her shoulder as they moved forward. When it became evident that the conversation would last at least a little longer, she returned her attention to the ship and her footsteps. Jyn glanced to her, concerned, and noted the thoughts that seemed to flicker behind her shadowed eyes.

K-2 was already in the ship when they arrived, and Rowan exclaimed her joy at this loudly.

"K!" She shouted enthusiastically, laughing. "How are ya, mate?"

K seemed to smile. "I am wonderful, Miss Rowan. How are you?"

Rowan smiled, mischief and daring giving her an ironic look. "Dead exhausted, but good, thanks."

Jyn had slipped into the ship during the proceedings, glancing at the droid, recognition flashing across her features. K-2 turned to her as Rowan jumped in and threw her backpack to the floor. Beside her, Jyn fished through hers. Rowan noticed the blaster that Jyn readied, but said nothing, only twitching the corner of her lip upward in appreciation.

"I'm K-2SO." The droid introduced himself with much of the same pride he'd had when speaking to Rowan for the first time. "_I'm_ a reprogrammed Imperial droid."

Rowan smirked and looked to Jyn for her reaction. The same confusion and admiration were in the woman's eyes.

"I remember you," Jyn said, fixing her eyes on the droid.

There was silence, and Rowan looked back to her bags, sifting through them for Luke's knife. When she found it, she moved to slide it into the pocket inside her jacket as Jyn seated herself in the seat beside and a little behind her. Thinking better of it, Rowan sheathed the knife in an inner pocket of her right boot while the conversation continued between Jyn and K-2.

"I see the Counsel is sending you with us to Jedha." Rowan couldn't help but notice the criticism that slipped into the droid's voice like an undertone. She looked up, curious.

Jyn seemed to have noted it, too, for her response was guarded. "Apparently so."

"That is a bad idea. I think so, and so does Cassian." K said mysteriously.

Rowan flinched. "Dang, K. That awfully harsh for somebody you've just met, even for you."

Jyn's eyes fell to Rowan, who was crouched facing K now, one arm supported on her knee, as if she had been about to stand. Rowan's eyebrows were knit together in concern. "Is something up with you buddy?" She asked the droid.

"Maybe so." K said ambiguously. Rowan thought she saw the droid shrug imperceptibly. "But what do I know? My specialty is just strategic analysis."

Rowan gave a small laugh at this and raised her eyebrows amusedly, rolling her eyes as she stood. At that moment, Cassian entered the ship, and K seated himself in his copilot position. Rowan noticed Cassian's eyes were more veiled than usual, and knit her eyebrows together in concern as she sat and adjusted Luke's knife in her boot that it might be both comfortable and reachable.

"You met K-2?" He asked Jyn, who nodded.

"Charming." She returned, sarcasm lathered into the word.

Cassian immediately noticed something was off and glanced to Rowan, who gave a wry smile. He wrenched his eyes back to Jyn, before he slipped on his pilot's vest. "He tends to say whatever comes into his circuits." He explained, just as he had explained it to Rowan. "It's a byproduct of the reprogramming."

"Maybe they should have put in a filter." Rowan muttered beneath her breath. Only Jyn heard it; Cassian had slid into his seat. Rowan was glad to see a shadow of a smile pass over Jyn's face. She returned it, hers more of a helplessly amused expression.

"Why does she get a blaster and I don't?" K-2 spoke up, suddenly breaking the silence that had fallen.

Cassian's posture immediately went tense as he stood, confusion and doubt etched into his expression. Rowan watched him, unsure of what to do. "What?" He asked, a threat buried deep in his voice. He held out his hand, wordlessly commanding Jyn to give him the weapon. She didn't, fiddling with it instead.

"I know how to use it." She protested. Rowan noticed her grip grow tighter upon the blaster.

"That's what I'm afraid of." Cassian's voice got noticeably harder. "Give it to me." He commanded. Rowan went back to fiddling with Luke's knife.

"We're going to Jedha. That's a war zone." Jyn reasoned, pulling the blaster closer to her.

Cassian gave her a slightly incredulous expression. "That's not the point. Where did you get it?"

"I found it." Jyn returned, dancing about the question. Next to her, Rowan's lips curved in a barely noticeable smile as she restrained her laughter. She was impressed. K-2 was not.

"I find that answer vague and unconvincing." He vocalized his opinion from the cockpit.

Rowan chuckled lowly at this, and everyone in the ship looked to her. She shrugged helplessly, and the tension returned. Cassian simply rolled his eyes, the threat leaving him, but not the hesitancy.

"Trust goes both ways." Jyn persisted, and Rowan hoped she'd at least told Mothma that.

Cassian sighed almost imperceptibly with acceptance and slid into the pilot's seat. Shreds of tension still hung over the four like clouds, though, and K wasn't oblivious to this.

"You're letting her keep it?" He asked Cassian, sounding offended. "Would you like to know the probability of her using it against you?"

Cassian shot the droid a look as if to say, "Not now."

"It's high." K continued, ignoring Cassian.

"Let's get going." Cassian interrupted.

"It's very high." K hurried to get in the last word. Cassian just gave him another look, and the ship rose into the air, the door sliding closed and immersing the four into the dim light of the ship. Rowan felt her heart rate slow when the tension finally began to dissipate, but only after Jyn fell asleep and they were far into lightspeed.

No one spoke for a majority of the ride, Cassian obviously uncomfortable with Jyn's presence. Rowan got bored after a while, though, and moved to the front of the ship, standing behind Cassian and K-2, holding onto their chairs for stability and struggling not to about thinking about the months she'd spent in prison on Jedha.

She was examining the dashboard of the ship intently when Cassian interrupted her thoughts, sensing something was wrong.

"You okay?" His voice was a little weak from stubborn disuse.

Rowan struggled to pull herself from her reverie. "Hm?" She looked down into Cassian's eyes. "Working on it." She answered his question grimly, halfheartedly.

"We're not going to go near the prison, if that helps. We just need to find the sister of one of Saw's rebels." He seemed to read every thought that filtered through her head.

Her throat tightened when her fears were mentioned out loud, and she forced herself to regulate her breathing. She could feel the lashes that ripped open her back, the electricity that spiderwebbed about her body, the agonizing, searing pain that surged through every one of her blood vessels with the toxins they had injected. The screams had been disembodied then, bursting from her throat like an animal, so rending that the officers not interrogating her had left the room, sweat dripping down their necks.

Her vision was lost in the dark corridors; she remembered being dragged, limp, from "Speech Therapy", to her cell. She had been supported by her armpits by the stoic Stormtroopers down the hall, her feet dragging behind her. She wasn't unconscious, but the haze of pain that darkened her vision gave her the impression of being so. Her limbs ached with the residual toxins, but each bump in the rough underground tunnels sent pain stabbing through her body in every single blood vessel she possessed till she felt like her body had been filled with fire.

Cassian woke her from the vision; she'd fallen against the wall of the corridor to the cockpit, and he'd stood, shaking her by the shoulders. When she came to, he was watching her closely, his eyes boring into hers.

She breathed deeply, shakily, strengthening her position. She noticed with consternation that she was trembling violently. Her eyes snapped to reality and met Cassian's. "How long was I out?" She choked.

"Not long." He answered. She rubbed her eyes in response, red and sore with emotion, and looked at Cassian's feet, close to hers.

"Hey..." He whispered. "You okay?"

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she watched it for a moment, before her eyes moved slowly to his face. Wonder filled her features, before it drained slowly, to be replaced by sheer exhaustion.

"Evidently not." The laugh was grim, dark, ironic.

Cassian simply hugged her, wrapping his arms about her trembling frame, pouring as much comfort as he could into it. Rowan choked with emotion as she returned it, burying herself as far as possible into him.

All the while, despair sunk into her heart. It overwhelmed her, this life. She'd cut herself off from it, as if she were a different person than the one that had been tortured slowly, painfully, in those cells; a different person than the one that had woken one morning to find Luke missing, a note of apology left behind; a different person than the one that had raged desperately against the world, hysterical in her attempts to find Luke; a different person than the one that had been fighting wars at the age of twelve. And she'd succeeded for a while, until moments like this crashed about her.

She clung to Cassian like he was an anchor in a storm and she were a small, broken ship, tossed about by the winds and rain and waves. He seemed to understand this, for he only let go when she withdrew a few minutes later. He watched her carefully when she leaned back against the wall. Color had returned to her face; the tremors had receded.

"What was Draven telling you before we left?" She asked, and her voice was noticeably weak.

Cassian's eyes never met hers. "I'm to kill him."

Rowan glanced at Jyn, checking for any and all signs that she might be faking her sleep, but she wasn't. Jyn was fast asleep. Rowan's eyes returned to Cassian's; he was obviously uncomfortable.

Rowan nodded her understanding. There was nothing she could say that he hadn't already thought through.

The silence was heavy until K interrupted it.

"We're here." The droid said, and they pulled out of lightspeed.

\- - -

"We're here." Romulus announced.

At the back of the ship, Luke groaned, his eyes flickering open unwillingly. His head hurt, pulled from its much needed rest so quickly. He rose a little, before spots flickered to life before his eyes, and he laid back down, another groan escaping his lips. After waiting a handful of seconds, he pushed himself to a seated position, and then noted the grim tone that he had heard in Romulus's voice. Even Clover, sitting in the copilot's seat, was strangely quiet. Luke struggled to remember a time when Clover hadn't declared his opinion on anything.

"What's wrong?" He asked, confused, standing and stumbling to the cockpit to stand behind Romulus and Clover, who were both staring out at the planet below.

They didn't answer.

"Oh." The word fell from Luke's lips when he beheld the planet. "That's what's wrong."

From where they orbited above the planet's surface, they could see ships zooming about, laser bullets flashing in a variety of colors from their guns. And beneath all of this, men and, occasionally, women hurried in masses or individually, blasters firing in their hands. The sands of Jakku were littered with the dead; trading stalls and tables had been turned over. Fires burned and flickered up occasionally in the remains of what little permanent structures the planet had once contained. It seemed they had pulled out of lightspeed and into the middle of a battle.

"What do we do?" Clover's voice was filled with restrained panic.

"That..." Romulus faltered, eyes wide as he watched the chaos beneath. "Is a good question."

Behind them, Luke's heart dropped.


	17. Sixteen

"I'll go."

The cacophony of noise that had drowned out even the sounds of the new recruits training under the supervision of Dionysus down in the Labyrinth beneath their feet suddenly fell to tomb-like silence. There was a breath of it, before the room was plunged back into the raging ocean of noise.

"No, Leo!"

"Not again, Leo! We'll send someone else!"

"Who said we had to send anyone?"

"_I'll go!_" Leo roared, and again the room quieted. His eyes met Percy's. The child of Poseidon was leaning against the wall in the corner, eyes listless and bloodshot as always, but now watching Leo closely. A look of respect passed between the two, and Percy nodded in sorrowful acceptance of Leo's decision.

The rest of the room was not so complacent.

"Leo, we can't ask you to do this." It was Reyna this time, stepping forward, her toga closer to the floor than it usually was now that it was only hanging on thin, wasted shoulders. Despite her seemingly ruined figure, her eyes were more reflective of the time she had spent in the Underworld. Indeed, for her first few days here, back from the dead, she had been almost a ghost herself. Only a sheen of her original strength had returned, a show of power to push away help while she dealt with what she had seen and experienced alone in her heart.

"No," Leo returned, nodding, "you can't. Which is why I'm offering. No one else can fly on Festus the way I can, and no one else has done something like this before. Who knows, maybe I'll surprise you all again."

It was a half-hearted attempt at a joke. They all knew that Leo would never come back from this, even if it was a success, a highly unlikely possibility. It was doubtful that Ouranus, the Protogenos of the Sky, would die by an explosion of Greek Fire. It'd probably just make him mad enough to throw his full force at the remaining demigods alive, Percy thought, and then Leo would only experience the fate they all would receive a few hours earlier. The thought wasn't comforting.

Jake Mason advanced from the back of the room to stand by Leo. "You sure?" He asked, and Leo faced him, eyes resolute and tired.

"Very." Leo's voice was firm, if sorrowful.

"Then okay." Jake couldn't stop the tears that stuck in his throat when he spoke.

Leo wasn't oblivious and pulled the man into a hug. Jake buried his face into his friend's shoulder. At the back of the room, Percy had looked up and was watching the proceedings. He found his throat tightening and moved forward out of the shadows, reaching out to hug Leo. Leo returned it, once Jake had let go, and found his own throat betraying him. The son of Hephaestus's eyes glimmered with tears, and his voice was strange when he pulled away from Percy and spoke.

"I'd like to talk to Calypso, if you don't mind." He addressed Reyna, who nodded solemnly, and turned, Leo trailing her down a long hall till they reached the bathroom of the seaside villa.

When Reyna left, Leo turned on the faucet and tossed a drachma into the running water. His voice was cut off by the door closing when Reyna moved to return to the main room. She was stopped in her tracks by Percy, who was leaned against the wall a ways away, his arms crossed.

"You know that it's not gonna work, don't you?" He confronted her.

She nodded. "We all do."

"Then why are we sacrificing him?" Anger was boiling to life in Percy's voice. "There's no way sending a dude with a whole bunch of Greek Fire on the top of a metal dragon to blow himself up in the middle of Ouranus's gut is gonna kill the Protogenos of the Sky." Percy drew out the last four words, rage seething beneath them.

"No," Reyna conceded, keeping her calm, "but if Jason's still up there- if he's still alive- then we might be able to weaken Ouranus enough for Zeus to incapacitate him."

"_If_ Jason's alive." Percy repeated, emphasizing the doubts she had placed in her own answer. His anger had faded a little at his realization of Reyna's exhaustion.

Reyna nodded. "And if not, then we've done all we can, and we can die knowing that."

Percy sighed a little, reconciling himself to their fate.

They walked a little ways down the hall, stopping before they entered the main room.

"Should we tell Piper?" Percy asked, pity in his voice.

"Yes... But not yet."

Percy nodded in acquiescence to her decision, and they pushed through the door, back into the chaos of the main room.

\- - -

Rowan shook Jyn awake when they landed, still somewhat shaken from her reminder of Jedha's prison.

"We're here." She explained when Jyn gave her a confused look.

Outside the window lay the waste of Jedha. A large city, looking more like a fortress, lay far away in the sandy desert of the planet, rising on a huge outcropping of rust-colored rock into the burning light of the sun. Cassian's words, spoken to Jyn, reflected what Rowan was thinking.

"That's Jedha," he introduced, "Or what's left of it. We find Saw, we find your father."

Rowan remained silent, throwing her backpack over her shoulders and following Cassian, similarly prepared, K-2, and Jyn, who also bore a duffel bag, out of the U-Wing.

That was when the feeling hit her. Like a wave, dread washed over her, and she knew that something was in Jedha that was not natural. She glanced at Cassian, who also seemed tense, and knew her suspicions were not exactly ungrounded.

The group moved to a small projection of rock in front of the ship that stuck out from the burnt orange plains beneath them and gave them an excellent view of the city-fortress. Hovering above it was a massive Imperial Destroyer. Small cargo ships hurried to and fro from the city and the Destroyer, and these were what seemed to catch Jyn's attention. Her and Cassian were crouched behind a large rock, watching the activity with binoculars. K-2 and Rowan stood side by side behind them. Rowan's eyes were far away, preoccupied with the tugging she felt in her mind from some unknown force.

"What's with the Destroyer?" Jyn asked, and Rowan was jerked reluctantly from her thoughts. She watched Cassian hand her his set of binoculars and respond.

"It's because of your old friend, Saw Gerrera. He's been attacking cargo shipments."

Rowan couldn't help but notice the harshness in Cassian's voice. She knew that he knew that something foreign was here.

"What are they bringing in?" Jyn persisted.

"It's 'what are they taking out?'. Kyber crystal." He answered, and glanced at Rowan. Understanding passed between them. "All they can get." His eyes fell back to Jyn, not without a side glance of concern at Rowan. "We wondered why they were stripping the temple; now we know. It's fuel for the weapon." Cassian's eyes flickered with dread.

"The weapon your father's building." K-2 stayed matter-of-factly beside Rowan, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Dang, K!" She gasped, her heart seeming to restart. The tension of the conversation had absorbed Rowan, and the dread and anticipation in her heart had been more than enough to completely distract her. She'd forgotten the presence of the droid standing beside her.

Cassian only laughed to himself. Jyn looked slightly irritated, and Rowan couldn't tell if her next words were directed at her or the droid.

"Maybe we should leave target practice behind." The woman mused, rather pointedly.

K-2 sounded offended. "Are you talking about me?"

"She's right." Cassian agreed. "We need to blend in. Stay with the ship." He commanded the droid, standing and walking to Rowan.

K-2 was indignant. "I can blend in." He protested. "I'm an Imperial droid. This city is under Imperial occupation."

Jyn was standing now, walking toward the droid with her bag in her hands. "Half the people here want to reprogram you. The other half want to put a hole in your head."

"I'm surprised you're so concerned for my safety." K-2's voice was dry.

"I'm not." Jyn plopped her bag into K-2's outstretched hands. "I'm just worried they might miss you and hit me."

And the woman walked off. Cassian followed her, patting K-2 on the shoulder, a laugh in his eyes. Rowan walked with him, putting K-2 behind them, though she heard his next statement clearly.

"Doesn't sound so bad to me." K-2 muttered.

Rowan stumbled, snorting with laughter, and Cassian beamed in amusement as he steadied her.

The sun was hot, but the temperature of the planet was cold, so that they shivered in the shadows and sweated in the sunlight. With these alternations, they made their way to the city. On the way, Cassian placed a hand on Rowan's upper arm, slowing and stopping her as she gave him a concerned look. Jyn didn't notice and continued forward.

"Something's here, isn't it?" He asked, fixing her with a knowing expression.

Rowan nodded, squinting against the sun that peeked out from behind Cassian's head, giving him a strange looking halo. It turned the flyaway hairs into lines of gold and gave him a magnificent crown. She smirked a little to herself at it, but Cassian was too preoccupied with his own premonitions to notice.

"Do you know what it is?" His voice was concerned.

"I have an idea," Rowan returned enigmatically. "If it is who I think it is, then he's not much of a threat to the right people."

"Who is it?"

"I'll tell you when I find out." Rowan returned, a mischievous smile slipping slyly over her face. She turned back to follow Jyn, and sighing, Cassian followed.

"You're not at all helpful, you know." He commented when they were moving at a swifter pace, catching up with Jyn.

"Who said I had to be?" She laughed.

Cassian rolled his eyes.

"If I'm right, then we'll both probably meet him." Rowan elaborated. "If not, then that's certainly okay." She grinned rather grimly. "I'm not a big fan of him."

Cassian smirked. "Who are you a big fan of, then?"

"Draven." Rowan answered, shooting him a sarcastic look. Cassian laughed. It was then that they caught up to Jyn standing on the dusty road in front of the great city gates that reached high above their heads.

\- - -

"This where we get in?" Jyn asked. Cassian only nodded.

They got in the city by way of a fake ID and a few lies. Rowan found herself amazed there hadn't been more blasters and bullets, but she was discovering, to her relief, that violent entrances weren't Cassian's style. She had never been really good with a blaster anyway.

They were soon walking through streets just as crowded and tense as the ones that filled the trading post on the Ring of Kafrene. Rowan soon noticed that the tension went much deeper than the business, though. Stormtroopers marches in troops about the place; hooded and cloaked men and women went about, eyes fixed on the ground, not daring to look up. The Stormtroopers were what unnerved Rowan the most, and true to his nature, Cassian did his best to step in front of her as casually as possible whenever they passed near.

Rowan followed close behind Cassian and Jyn, keeping her eyes peeled for any indication of the person, the god, whose presence she had felt. The dread was just beginning to grow noticeably stronger when she watched Jyn accidentally bump into some passers-by.

"Hey!" The man turned, facing Jyn, who started at his deformed face. "You just watch yourself!" He threatened, but his friend struggled against him, giving Cassian an apologetic look as he pulled his friend away from the fight he obviously wanted.

Cassian did the same with Jyn. "No, no," He placated, gesturing to Jyn and calling her a "tourist" as he continued, "we don't want any trouble." When the men had turned away, he forced Jyn forward, muttering "Come on, come on."

Behind them, Rowan smirked a little. Yes, the tension was palpable.

Her knowledge was further confirmed when they passed one of the holographic wanted signs she'd seen with her face floating above for quite some time. A voice came from it, the generic tone of every Stormtrooper she'd ever encountered.

"Citizens of Jedha, you must come forward with information of the location of this missing cargo pilot. A reward of 600 credits for the information shall be awarded." Came the voice, and Rowan suddenly became far more interested in the face that hovered above it than she ever thought she could.

It was tan, a natural color, with a small nose and large brown eyes. His face was framed with black facial hair and a black mustache, flight goggles acting as a headband that pulled his greasy, stringy but abundant black hair back from his face, in a ponytail at the back of his head. There was an awkward smile on his lips, innocent, revealing a sweetness of character.

She was pulled out of her reverie by Cassian's voice filtering through the hot sun and dusty crowds. She looked up to see they had gotten a little ways ahead, and hurried forward.

"I had a contact- one of Saw's rebels- but he's just gone missing," Cassian was explaining to Jyn when Rowan caught up, "His sister will be looking for him. The temple's been destroyed, but she'll be there waiting. We'll give her your name and hope that gets us a meeting with Saw."

"Hope?" Jyn asked, incredulous and a little disappointed, stopping so that Rowan almost ran into her. Rowan shot her an irritated look.

"Yeah," Cassian gave Jyn an equally incredulous look, as if to ask "what else did you think we'd do". "Rebellions are built on hope."

The faith in Cassian's voice gave courage to Rowan, but she was immediately distracted. Behind Cassian, above his head, there stood a figure, silhouetted against the sun. Rowan was watching it curiously, and Cassian followed her gaze to it.

"Who is it?" He asked, recognizing the look she gave whenever she saw anyone from Earth there.

The figure then turned, and a gust of wind surged through the streets and along the rooftops. The cloak then drifted away, revealing nothing to be beneath it. The magenta colored fabric gracefully fluttered down to rest at Rowan's feet. She picked up the fabric and felt its richness, and then she smirked, grim understanding flickering behind her eyes. Cassian watched her change in expression.

"Who is it?" He asked again, and Rowan looked up. Jyn's eyes flicked between the two, confused.

"Who I thought it was." Rowan answered. "But I'm going alone to meet him." She added, nodding her farewell to them both and turning back into the crowd.

Cassian grabbed her upper arm as she moved to go and met her eyes. "You sure?" He asked.

Rowan nodded and shrugged. "Sure as I can be." She answered.

Cassian nodded, recognizing the firm expression in her eyes. "Okay... We'll meet here before we go to Saw."

Rowan's gaze was distracted, examining the cloak, as she nodded and turned. As if waking from a trance at the last second, she turned back to Cassian and Jyn, giving a two-fingered salute that reminded Cassian disturbingly of the visions he'd seen in the siren's mist, and finally disappearing with a smirk.

\- - -

"Clover!" Luke hissed in alarm when the satyr moved before Romulus gave the signal from the ship.

The satyr looked helpless. "My leg fell asleep!" He protested.

Luke rolled his eyes and looked back to the battlefield that lay before them. They'd hiked from a point far away on the shifting desert sands where they'd parked the ship. Romulus was communicating with them through radio, now high in the air above their heads. On any other planet, the ship would have been visible; not so on Jakku. The blistering heat, rising in waves from the sand, blocked out the view of anything more than two hundred feet in the air unless one squinted against the sun.

The ship they were looking for was parked outside of the city, and to there did Romulus do his best to direct them. The only issue, however, was the raging battle between that point and their current one.

Luke had spent some time here on Jakku before moving to Coruscant. He'd been a scrapper, selling pieces and parts of discarded ships to the buyers in their stalls littered throughout the city, if it deserved such a term. When he'd worked hard enough, he'd bought a ride with a smuggler by the name of Han Solo, that offered him passage to Coruscant, where his prospects were much better for jobs. There he'd lived on the streets for a little while, till he came across the bartender of the place that'd hired him, the place he'd worked until his lifestyle had been shattered by the satyr next to him, inching slowly but noticeably forward.

"Okay," Romulus's voice cracked to life over the radio in Luke's ear. "Move forward twenty feet- slowly- and there's an overturned stall you can hide behind." He commanded.

Luke nodded, though he knew the man couldn't hear him. Together, him and Clover snuck forward, softly inching through the sands, past a few corpses whose blood stained the dust. But one of the corpses was, in fact, alive. His voice rose, high and warbling, into the air.

"Traitors!" He screamed. "Traitors to the Rebellion!"

His bloody hand was pointed directly at them. Without a word, Luke and Clover turned on their heels and ran back to their original hiding place. Two or three other men arrived at the side of their fallen comrade then, but the man had expired in his attempts to point out the "traitors to the Rebellion". Luke released a pent up sigh, peeking out from behind the overturned trading stall when he though the coast was clear and seeing that the new arrivals had returned with war cries to the fight.

Luke rested his sweating forehead against the still relatively cool metal of the stall, slowing his heart rate and forcing himself to breathe. A hand suddenly prodded his shoulder, and concerned, he turned his face to see Clover, sheet white, facing the plains away from the raging battle. Alarm spiked in Luke's chest, and he turned to see what had scared the satyr so much.

The sight terrified him, too.

It was a manticore, slowing to a halt before them. Immediately, Luke drew Backbiter and moved to stand in front of Clover.

The manticore sounded pleased when it spoke. "Ah! More half-bloods for me to speak to!"

\- - -

Rowan had slipped the cloak about her shoulders when Cassian and Jyn disappeared behind her. She knew it would tug her gently in the direction she needed to go, and it did, leading her ever so irresistibly through streets that seemed to block out the sun, past the low-lives and prostitutes that slunk through their lives in the filth of the alleys. The Holy City, it seemed, suffered from great neglect.

The cloak led her to a small salon, broken and abandoned, at the end of a long alley. The sun, coming from behind the clouds, drenched it in a reddish light so that it looked like the clay of the houses carved into the mountains near Santa Fe back home. Or, rather, back on Earth. Rowan advanced up the steps, passing women robed in rich pink, their faces covered except for the eyes. She nodded to them in greeting, and their eyes followed her intently, silently, maliciously. Rowan shrugged off the dread that caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. She steeled herself for what she knew this meeting would address.

She jogged up the clay steps and into the cool of the shade brought by the overhang from the salon's roof, supported by Corinthian columns, though Rowan highly doubted the builder of the salon knew what those were. The cloak fell from her shoulders then, its job done, and Rowan advanced forward, taking long, firm steps through the doors that swung open of their own accord when she reached them. She entered into a wide room, the ceiling high above. The floor beneath her consisted of marble, columns standing solemnly in a circle about her to support a domed roof that reached high about her head.

The salon was empty, and yet Rowan turned in a circle, holding out her hands as if to present herself.

"Hello, Eros." She said, and her voice echoed in the room. "You called?"

About her, a breeze suddenly arose, sweeping past her and forming into a man behind her. He was tall, muscular, with white wings that fell to rest behind his frame. A white t-shirt and jeans clothed his form, beneath his face. It was hard, difficult to look at, with red eyes that watched her with all the intensity of a preying lion.

"That I did." Eros said, "So glad you could come."


	18. Seventeen

The manticore advanced slowly, relishing in its power over Clover and Luke. Both seemed uncertain as to what to do, until Luke decided to engage it in conversation, taking the hint that it wanted to talk, most likely to satisfy its pride.

"'More half-bloods'?" He asked, getting the feeling that he knew exactly whom the manticore was talking about.

The manticore seemed flattered that Luke wanted to talk. "Oh... You must be Luke Castellan." It mused. "I met your sister a few days back. Lovely girl. Interrupted my killing the titan's son."

Luke's heart dropped to his stomach. He had no idea what the manticore meant by "interrupted", but he had a feeling it wasn't something good. Rowan's interruptions in battles had often resulted in her own harm. He bypassed the thought, focusing on the creature before him.

"You start all this?" He asked, gesturing to the battle behind him.

The manticore grinned widely, madly, maliciously. "Of course I did... Mortals are so much more stupid than us, aren't they?"

Luke simply raised his eyebrows, nodding as he pondered the manticore's arrogance.

"How?" Clover asked, and Luke was almost scared out of his wits; he'd thought the satyr would be frozen in terror for at least a few more minutes. But Clover had spotted something moving toward them that Luke hadn't in his concentrated examination of the manticore's features. When Luke looked at the satyr, confused, he saw Clover's eyes fixed upon a point above the manticore, and Luke followed his gaze as the manticore spoke.

"Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Apparently a mortal's brain reacts very strongly to ambrosia: makes them go a little mad." The manticore seemed to be laughing at his own joke. "After that, it was easy to rile them up. Lots of dead makes for lots of prey."

Revulsion boiled in Luke's gut; he resisted the urge to charge the manticore then and there as he pictured the dead that littered the ground behind him, more casualties of the war raging between what appeared to be the Rebellion and the Empire. That anyone, even the loathsome creature before him, would capitalize upon the bodies of the dead, the dead that had sacrificed themselves for a cause so deeply significant and noble, so heartlessly seemed to bring fire to Luke's veins. But he forced himself to calm as the black speck on the horizon approached.

As it came closer, the waves of heat rising from the sands pulled away from it like a series of curtains, revealing it steadily to have arms and legs and a head, and finally, revealing it to be Romulus. The werewolf had a concentrated expression of thoughtfulness upon his face: his eyes grim, his mouth tight. But Luke couldn't have been happier to see the man.

He jerked his attention back to the manticore, who was eyeing Clover hungrily. Clover's attention had rapidly been turned back to the manticore.

"Then you must have grown fat," Luke taunted, finally finding the words to respond to the monster.

Evidently, the manticore was insecure, for it roared: "Fool! You stand before me, armed with nothing but a treacherous sword!"

"Ah," Luke mused, pouring as much arrogance and insult as he could into his voice, "but you are a slug, if what you say is true. I think I'll be okay." He threw in a smirk at the end, unable to resist the urge. Behind the manticore, Romulus grinned.

The manticore, however, was not amused. It charged forward, bellowing its rage.

\- - -

When Rowan walked out from within the shadows that enveloped the alley leading directly to Eros's temple, she saw that all hell, in fact, had broken loose. With something of a more irritated expression, she snuck into the shadows on her right, creeping her way along the walls of the crowded buildings until she reached the source of the shouting, explosions, and screaming.

Saw's rebels had attacked what appeared to be an Imperial tank. Cloaked and hooded rebels stood upon roofs and in the midst of crowded and screaming men and women, armed to the teeth with grenades and blasters. Rowan immediately removed hers from its holster, holding it relaxedly at her side as she scanned the panicked area for any sign of Cassian or Jyn; she had a feeling they would be in the midst of it.

Her eyes, upon observing the chaos before her, widened a little, and emotion returned to them, though they had suddenly attained the quality of appearing much older than they were. Dust plumed and bodies flew as grenades were tossed about randomly. The tension of Jedha had finally burst in flame and blood; before her lay the result.

The main conflict was here, in a small city square, four alleys leading to it. Rowan searched it, panic growing in her as she beheld the devastation, hoping beyond hope that Cassian and Jyn were far away from there. But they weren't.

Rowan spotted Jyn a ways away, the woman grabbing hold of a young, screaming child and dragging him to shelter. The mother soon arrived to save the little boy, thanking Jyn weepingly. Jyn simply lay there, knocked to her back by a nearby blast, stunned at the battle raging about her.

Suddenly Rowan heard a voice near her, a Stormtrooper. "Hit the tower," he was commanding, his voice as emotionless as they usually were.

With dread, Rowan realized that Jyn was directly beneath it. Rowan didn't think; she moved. She was up in a second, sprinting into the fray, her blaster clutched in her fist, her eyes alert and fiery as she watched the tank's cannon readjust itself, moving ever so slowly, ever so ominously, to aim and fire upon the ramshackle tower and crush Jyn. Just as it fired, Rowan grabbed hold of Jyn's arm, dragging her away, roaring, "Move!" at the top of her lungs.

Jyn did, a little surprised at the sudden arrival of Rowan. Rowan dragged her to the only sheltered space in the square: the space between the two front wheels of the tank. When they got there, Rowan threw her back against the wheel, breathing heavily. Across the clearing, she spotted Cassian, who was watching them both, blaster out and arms stiff, ready to fire. Suddenly, she watched his eyes travel worriedly to a point above both of their heads, and she followed his gaze to see a man raising his arm to throw a grenade to the place they sat hidden.

Her eyes jerked back to Cassian, raising his blaster to fire, and then to Jyn. The woman was watching the world about them carefully, eyeing every escape she could find. When the bullet left Cassian's blaster, Rowan moved, leaping out from her position and charging toward him. Jyn followed. Rowan turned her head to watch the extremist fall, dead, to the ground. Just as he landed, she crashed into Cassian, who grabbed hold of her, steadying her. It was a pointless gesture, for the grenade of the extremist went off just then and rocked the earth. Rowan and Cassian fell in a tumble, Jyn landing next to them.

It seemed with this explosion, the Empire was able to regain a little control, for the area quieted, and Rowan, Cassian, and Jyn stood slowly to their feet, staggering a little as they hurried into a side alley.

"This way." Cassian gestured and they followed, Rowan realizing she had lost her blaster in the chaos.

\- - -

"Leo..." Calypso's voice was soft, broken, and in it, Leo could hear the repressed tears. "Leo, why?"

Leo ran a hand through long-unwashed hair. "I'm the only one who can do this, Calypso... Sunshine." He attempted a smile. It didn't work.

Calypso laughed a little, resisting the urge to reach out and cup his face in her hands. But she was far, far away, and the Iris message, the misty rainbow, was far too cruel. Behind her, the world was changing, men and women hurried into vessels that would take them from where they were to Ogygia. She never thought that she would ever find herself actively herding mortals to the land she had always regarded a prison, treating it as if it were their savior. It was.

And now Leo.

Her life would be less than a life if he... The word escaped her, too horrible to conceive. Leo _could not_ die. He was there before her in the mist from the underground spring they'd found in the Labyrinth, transformed into a rainbow by the flashlight Annabeth was holding. Annabeth had been quiet throughout the whole conversation, looking at her feet.

"I'll go with you." Calypso suddenly said, and Annabeth looked up quickly.

"No, Sunshine." Leo was firm. "I can't ask you to do that. We don't even know if it will work. It probably won't. I'm not letting you die that way."

Panic had entered Leo's voice; his eyes were bright in fear and desperation.

"And I'm not letting you die alone." Calypso retorted, putting her hands on her hips. Leo smiled a little at the familiar posture.

"But- but-" Leo protested.

"Leo..." Calypso's voice softened. "The last sacrifice you made, you made alone, and you made it for me." Her heart was beating harshly now when she remembered the day that he had come out of the clouds, clothes singed, face covered in ash. "This time, you don't have to do it alone."

"Calypso..." Leo's face was contorted with pain. "Calypso, we're gonna die."

A tear trickled down Calypso's face. She wanted to hold him so badly. "But we're not going to do it alone."

Leo nodded, unable to accept, unable to reject, paralyzed in the face of the overwhelming presence of death. Oh, how he didn't want to die. Oh, how he didn't want her to die.

Calypso knew what was running through his head; she knew it as well as she knew him.

She chose to be decisive for him. "It'll take me around a day and a half to get to you." She explained. "Wait for me."

Leo looked defeated; his eyes were ages older than they had been before when he looked up into Calypso's eyes. A tear was making its lonely, weary way down his dirty cheek; his eyes were bloodshot, cheeks pale and sunken. But gratefulness flickered in his features and filled his voice, relief at her companionship on the lonely road that all men take to death.

"I will." He assured. "Love you, Sunshine." He choked.

"Love you, too, Mr. McShizzle." She attempted a joke, but it fell flat, murdered by the pain shared between them. Wishing she could gaze upon him for just a little longer, capturing the face that hovered before her in the dim light of the Labyrinth, she swept a hand through the mist, and the rainbow disappeared, Leo's face fading like a wilting flower into the dark.

"I need to pack." She told Annabeth, whose eyes had returned to the ground.

Annabeth only nodded, and pulled her friend into a hug. The two had grown close over the months that they'd spent wandering the ashen remains of Earth, searching for exits from the planet into Ogygia, where Calypso had assumed they would be safe for at least a little while. All animosity in relation to Percy had been put aside to make way for a fierce companionship.

Annabeth would not counter Calypso's decision; she had known the woman long enough to recognize the look in her eyes, the iron resolution, the adamantine will. And so she hugged the woman, her arms wrapping around the muscular frame, pushing as much comfort into her friend as possible.

When Calypso pulled away, her eyes were red, but her expression forbade all pitying from Annabeth, who simply moved out of Calypso's way as she hurried to the sleeping bags they'd laid out in the dark on the cold ground.

\- - -

The first Stormtrooper was an easy kill. Cassian had charged forward, shooting it, Rowan close on his heels. And then a whole group of them came flooding into the alley. Cassian spun around, and the three of them hurried to find shelter in the small gaps between houses. Rowan threw herself against the wall, closest to the alley and the approaching Stormtroopers, as Cassian's back hit the wall father in. Jyn took shelter across the alley, her eyes moving to the Troopers that hurried forward, armed.

This was when Cassian noticed something was wrong with Rowan. Her carefree demeanor, so quick to joke and laugh, had been replaced by a grim, angry one. She was breathing heavily with the emotions that she fought, suppressing it with a glare as she kept herself out of view. Her eyes were shimmering, too, though they burned with anger, in a way that Cassian had never seen. The emotions that were obviously boiling in her became too much to bear when the Stormtroopers got close, for she leapt into action.

"Rabdí!" She roared as she leapt out of the shadow of the buildings, her ring forming into a tall, black staff.

The first Trooper was felled with a blow that nocked his head backwards upon his neck and broke it, sending him crashing in a pile of armor to the dust below. The next, she smacked across the face, snapping his neck just as easily.

From the small alley, Cassian inched into the larger one, his blaster at the ready, his face plastered with confusion as he watched Rowan swiftly dispatch the remaining Stormtroopers in the fury of her rage. Her eyes were fiery, her hair whipping about as she moved with all the contained energy of a pouncing lioness.

When she was done, she straightened, commanding her staff to slide back into its ring form. She stood there for a moment, her body heaving with released emotion and the effort of her muscles in the fight. Her hands were still twitching until she rubbed her face, evidently to rub the tears that had gathered in her eyes. Then she pushed har hair back and it clung to the top of her head, dripping with sweat. She turned to Cassian, some form of her old demeanor returning to her eyes as she forced herself into the state she had always inhabited.

"What happened to the rendezvous point?" A smirk lifted one corner of her lips, her eyes twinkled a little, the darkness in them receding uncertainly.

"We got sidetracked." Cassian returned, choosing not to acknowledge the elephant in the room, or, rather, the alley, until he was alone with Rowan.

Rowan raised her eyebrows, laughter brimming in her eyes in place of tears as she opened her mouth to respond.

Just then, a K-2 unit entered the alley, moving much the same way K-2SO did. Without hesitation, Jyn raised her blaster and shot it dead between the eyes. It fell with a crash and a plume of dust to the ground, only to be replaced by yet another K-2 unit.

"Did you know that wasn't me?" K asked, seeming highly put out.

Rowan smirked. "Good to see you, K."

"I thought I told you to stay on the ship." Cassian was facing K now, repressing his laughter and reloading his blaster. Behind him, Rowan rubbed muscles sore from disuse. Jyn simply stared at the droid, a laugh finally in her eyes.

"You did, but I thought it was boring, and you were in trouble." K returned indignantly. "There are a lot of explosions for three people trying to blend in."

He finished speaking just as yet another group of Stormtroopers began to flood the alley behind him. One threw a grenade and it sailed directly toward K as Rowan, Cassian, and Jyn moved slowly backwards away from the approaching Troopers. Jyn was nodding to the Troopers, trying to indicate to K that they weren't alone, but K caught the flying grenade without anything resembling a second thought.

"Freeze right there!" A Trooper shouted, but was unable to say much else as K tossed the grenade back behind him to the Stormtroopers just as casually as he had caught it.

The explosion killed the Troopers and rocked the buildings around them, as Rowan, Cassian, and Jyn watched the droid with new amazement flickering to life in their eyes.

"You're right," K's voice held so much sarcasm and arrogance that Rowan snorted. "I should just stay on the ship."

Cassian raised his eyebrows, mirth and respect brewing in his eyes as K led the trio out of the alley, back into the open, and right into the presence of a large troop of Stormtroopers. Rowan's heart dropped to her stomach from its high brought on by adrenaline and amusement. The trio froze beside K-2. Rowan stood between Cassian and Jyn, glancing at the former from the corner of her eyes, trying to gauge what to do from her friend's expression. He was as clueless as she was.

Together, they turned to walk away, slinking from the clearing like thieves from the site of their crime.

"Halt!" Came the shout, the classic shout, from behind them, and the four froze. "Stop right there!"

Wincing, Rowan turned with the group, praying they would get out of this one. With a flash, she remembered Jedha's prison and forced down the panic starting up in her chest.

"Where are you taking these prisoners?" The Stormtrooper turned his words to K-2, and Rowan breathed a sigh of relief. They might make it out of this alive. And then she remembered K-2's skills when it came to lying, and groaned inwardly at their luck.

Her dread wasn't unfounded. "These are prisoners?" K-2 asked, naïveté evident in his voice. Rowan breathed a sigh of disappointment beneath her breath.

"Yes." The Stormtrooper returned, moving forward. Rowan believed his blaster was rather uncomfortably close. "Where are you taking them?"

"I am taking them..." K-2 paused, completely blowing their cover. "To imprison them... In prison." The droid fumbled over the words.

Beside her, it was Cassian's turn to wince, his face contorting in an imperceptible flash of pain and grim hopelessness. There was no way they could fight their way out of this, and he knew that.

"He's taking us to-" Cassian started, attempting to remedy the damage of K's blatant lies, but he was cut off by K himself, smacking Cassian across the face. Cassian stumbled a little, and Rowan moved to grab hold of him as he cradled his cheek, now truly wincing in pain.

"Quiet!" K commanded in mock authority, obviously trying to repair his own mistakes. "And there's a fresh one if you mouth off again!" He threatened, and Rowan couldn't help but release the snort that had been building up at the droid's antics.

The Stormtrooper sounded unimpressed. "We'll take them from here."

"That's okay." K was scrambling. "If you could just point me in the right direction, I can take them, I'm sure. I've taken them this far..."

K never got the chance to finish as the Stormtroopers advanced and promptly handcuffed Rowan, Cassian, and Jyn. Rowan smirked when she remembered that the last time she had been handcuffed was when she had met Cassian.

"Hey, wait a second!" She protested, jerking her hands away from the Trooper, who persisted lazily.

"Take them away." He commanded in the same lackadaisical tone.

Two Stormtroopers escorted them away, one on either side of the three.

"Wait!" K-2 protested, hurrying to catch up with them. Rowan looked back, her eyebrows knit together in concern as she watched K. Cassian was just as alarmed, resisting the Troopers that led them.

"Hey, droid!" One of the Troopers shouted after K-2. "You can't take them away! You need to stay here. We need to check your diagnostics!"

K-2 sounded highly offended when he spoke, freezing in his steps. Complying with their resistance, the Troopers hesitated to lead Cassian, Rowan, and Jyn any farther. "Diagnostics?" K-2 exclaimed. "I'm capable of running my own diagnostics, thank you very much!"

As Rowan watched the proceedings, stress etched into her features, she noticed a figure emerge from a doorway, watched by other civilians that had gathered like flies to dead flesh to view the proceedings. When K-2's protestations got him nowhere, the figure spoke in faltering English, wrestling with the phonetics of the words that fell from his lips, mysterious and awe-inspiring for their courage.

"Let them pass in peace." He said, coming into the daylight that streamed from between the buildings rising about them.

The only response was dead silence as they observed this new addition. He was obviously blind, his eyes a milky white and blue and mesmerizing. He was small, about the size of Rowan and Jyn, cloaked in tans and browns with the sudden appearance of bright, blood reds that occasionally exploded with color from the depths of the rest of the blandness of his clothes. He carried a staff, and Rowan got the feeling the staff was not just for walking.

"Let them pass in peace." He repeated, this time firmer. "The Force is with me, and I am with the Force, and I fear nothing, for all is as the Force wills it."

"Hey, stop right there!" A Stormtrooper shouted, aiming its blaster at the blind man. The others followed in suit. Rowan couldn't help but wonder why Stormtroopers always commanded people to do things "right there", and almost missed the comments thrown at the blind man that stood tall in the face of all the blasters he could not see.

"He's blind." One Stormtrooper stated. "Is he deaf?"

"I said," The Stormtrooper who had spoken first repeated, "Stop right there!"

As the Stormtroopers' fingers began to adjust on their triggers and their feet shuffled into the right position, Cassian grabbed Rowan, gesturing to a space to hide behind part of a fallen wall leaning against the building. Jyn followed the two as K ushered them there, and the three peeked out from their hiding space, K-2's head protruding awkwardly above them all, as they watched the blind man spring into action.

He had cocked his head when the Stormtroopers were preparing to fire, as if listening in on what was happening, and Rowan remembered what she had learned about blind men, how their hearing was oftentimes better than the average human's.

When the first shot went off, the blind man ducked, and charged. With his stick, his feet, and the use of his cloak, he quickly incapacitated the Stormtroopers before them in a flurry of action.

Beside Cassian, Rowan muttered a small "dang" beneath her breath. Cassian smirked beside her, watching the blind man dispatch the Troopers with the ease of an expert. He stood tall amidst the bodies around him when he finished, and Rowan could see a hint of a smirk on his face as another troop of Stormtroopers flooded the perimeter of the area, surrounding the blind man at a distance, blasters aimed at the blind man's head.

Just as Rowan was despairing for the life of the man she had come to respect in the last few minutes, rapid blaster fire erupted from behind him, felling the Stormtroopers in the span of two seconds. Rowan raised her eyebrows in surprise.

From the smoke behind the blind man, another man emerged. This one was large, tall, muscular, intimidating. He was armed to the teeth with blasters, an especially large one in his hand and hooked to a huge tank upon his back, strapped to him like a backpack. It was a heavy repeater cannon, and Rowan was amazed, struggling to pull her attention from the man's weapon to his face. It was old and tired, hard and well-worn. His hair was long and messy, a deep brown compared to his friend's soft black, short locks.

"You almost shot me!" The blind man protested, hands resting on his staff.

A Stormtrooper moved on the ground, lifting its head to see its surroundings, its blaster following as it aimed to shoot the blind man. The large one didn't miss it, promptly shooting the Trooper in the face. It fell limp to the ground.

"You're welcome." The large man returned, moving about the clearing and examining the bodies for signs of life.

K-2, Cassian, Rowan, and Jyn moved hesitantly from their hiding spot, unsure of their feet, wondering if or when they might need to run for it, though they all had a feeling that running for it would do them no good against this eclectic pair.

"Clear of hostiles." K-2 announced, looking about the clearing.

In response, the large man aimed his cannon at K. The droid's hands shot up in the air.

"One hostile!" He took back his former words, and Jyn ran in front of him, raising her cuffed hands in defense. In the split second it happened, Rowan couldn't help but be impressed.

"He's with us!" Jyn shouted.

The blind man had made his way to a low wall, seating himself in a way that would deceive Rowan's eyes had she not seen the way he had moved with skill and speed beforehand.

"They're all right." The blind man placated his friend, who lowered his blaster.

"Thanks." Jyn returned as K-2 picked the lock to her handcuff. It fell off with a beep, and Rowan was next. She nodded to the droid as hers came off, and moved to stand beside Jyn, looking with uncertainty at the men, rubbing her wrists. Behind her, K-2 removed Cassian's, speaking.

"Cassian, I'm sorry about the slap." He apologized, and Rowan turned to watch the droid and Cassian, amusement in her eyes.

"Go back to the ship," Cassian commanded, though not unkindly. "Wait for my call."

Rowan watched as K-2 loped off into the distance, through the dusty streets. She turned back to the pair with Cassian, whose blaster was now out and at the ready, his arms holding it stiff before him, till he thought better of it and slipped it into his holster.

"Is he Jedi?" Cassian asked, addressing the larger man.

The large man looked tired, as if he had answered the question far too often for his liking. "There are no Jedi here anymore, only dreamers like this fool."

"The Force did protect me." The blind man put in.

Incredulous, the larger man looked at his friend, gesturing to himself, eyebrows raised and voice defensive. "_I_ protected you!"

"Can you get us to Saw Gerrera?" Jyn asked, and the clearing suddenly erupted in activity as extremists flooded it. Rowan suddenly found herself on her knees surrounded by a large group of them, Cassian and Jyn in the same predicament near them.

The blind man protested as he went down. "Can't you see we are no friends of the Empire?" He shouted angrily.

An alien language erupted from the faces of one of the extremists. Rowan had seen his kind in cantinas throughout the galaxy: a bulbous metal head with something like an old microphone for a mouth. In the little bit of alien that she knew, Rowan could translate his words to be: "Tell that to the one who killed our men."

Rowan's eyes traveled to Cassian, who was struggling hopelessly against his captors. Seeing his fight, Rowan jerked her shoulder from under the repression of one of the extremists surrounding her, moving to get to Cassian.

"Back off!" She hissed to the alien, who gave her an apathetic look and shoved her shoulder down in its socket so that it threatened to pop out. She gave a cry of pain, and Cassian redoubled his struggles.

"Anyone who kills me or my friends will answer to Saw Gerrera!" Jyn roared, with more authority than Rowan thought the woman could posses, for the harsh restraining of the extremists lessened.

"And why is that?" The extremist that had addressed them earlier spoke.

Jyn fixed him with a look of disgust and pride. "Because I'm the daughter of Galen Erso."

The alien seemed momentarily taken aback, before he turned to his troops. "Take them!" He commanded, and Rowan found herself with a sack over her head.

A ways to her right, as the extremists forced her to her feet, holding her tightly by the arms to keep her from running, she heard the blind man: "Are you kidding me? I'm blind!"


	19. Eighteen

Romulus acted the moment the manticore moved. His carefully trained eyes had been watching the manticore's hind limbs for a majority of the conversation, seeking the tell-tale signs of his attack. His eyes did not let him down.

Luke leapt out of the way of the charging creature, slamming into Clover and shoving the protesting satyr aside with a grunt as his weight struggled to combat the satyr's. He wondered exactly how much feasting Clover had done in Maz's tavern, but had little time to ponder the question, for the manticore was roaring then. Tense, Luke jerked his attention to the creature, and was happy to see that the manticore's roar had been out of pain.

Romulus had planted his Imperial Gold sword into the manticore's hind leg.

The manticore whirled on the werewolf, snarling wildly. It started in confusion when it beheld the ancient behind it, and stumbled back a few paces, leaking blood upon the brilliant sand.

"You!" it hissed in angry surprise.

"Me." Romulus confirmed, looking bored. The werewolf stepped back a pace, taking in the pitiful opponent before him. It was then that the manticore's eyes met the sight of the Imperial Gold sword hanging limply but firmly in the werewolf's grey hand.

"Strange blade, king." The manticore's eyes were gleaming hungrily, greedily, a thirst for such wealth building in its dark heart.

"Not as strange as your presence here," Romulus returned, well aware of the emotions in the manticore's heart. "What brings you to this..." Romulus chose his words carefully, "_hot_ planet?"

Luke felt the smirk slip across his sweaty features, and he readied himself. Romulus was moving the manticore away from him and Clover, inching backwards as he flattered the manticore's insatiable pride. Luke's muscles tensed. Backbiter grew restless in his slick palm; he began to bounce on his toes, shifting his weight from one leg to the other eagerly. Clover watched the man with an amused smile on his features.

Romulus continued to inch backward, the manticore blindly following his subtle commands, though all three travelers knew the manticore probably had much more in mind for all of them than they anticipated.

Luke's eyes traced the path upon which Romulus led the manticore, slowly anticipating his first move. And then he struck.

Knowing full well that the manticore would have been watching his movements closely, he twisted in the air as he threw himself upon the creature's flank, to avoid a deadly spike sailing in his direction with all the accuracy and strength of a bullet. He barely felt it graze his left side, and paid no mind to the sting of the sizzling poison that frothed inside the wound, for his sword, faithful and true, embedded itself into the monster's lower back.

Luke was thrown off the manticore's body as the thing writhed in pain, squirming about in the hot desert sands before the sad, disgusted eyes of Romulus, and the irritated eyes of Clover. Luke, meantime, had fallen to the sands and was wondering why it seemed so difficult to push himself to his feet. When he did, the manticore had stilled, leaking blood, still not turned to ash, which confused Luke as he stumbled to the creature and ripped Backbiter from the flesh of it.

Romulus, too, seemed confused.

A wind was rising in the dust, sweeping off the massive dunes and bringing with it the whisper of a voice, words indiscernible in the sands that sprayed about the four of them. Romulus tensed.

The manticore suddenly snapped aware, looking like a cornered animal, a desperate, bitter anger filling his visage.

"This is not the last you shall see of me, demigod," he hissed, and a chill ran down Luke's spine as the manticore jerked its violent eyes that they rested menacingly, forebodingly, upon his own. "My master calls me elsewhere."

And then the creature dissolved into the desert sands.

Luke staggered as they stared at where the creature had once been, horror disfiguring Romulus's features, confusion Clover's. The two of them started toward the demigod when he grunted in frustration, gripping his side tightly.

"Luke, mate!" Clover started toward the man, holding out his hands in concern and grabbing hold of him to steady his weak frame. Romulus strode toward him, eyes flashing in fear of the worst. But Luke straightened with the help of the satyr, and pulled his hand away from his side, revealing a jagged gash that ripped through his jacket, shirt, and a good portion of his flesh. The edges frothed with poison, and Romulus blanched.

Luke looked to the werewolf, and for the first time in his life, he truly feared for it. The thought of his sister, out here in this wild and strange galaxy, looking for him, brought to him a determination for life that had never surged forth in his soul before. Fear flickered in his eyes when he beheld the werewolf's dismay.

Clover didn't miss a beat. "Can you heal him?" A motherly panic was in his voice, churning beneath the surface.

Romulus's face was pale, even for the grey skin, but he nodded. "I can," he answered gravely, "but not here."

"Where, then?" Clover was desperate. Luke could already feel himself losing consciousness. "The ship is too far. He won't make it." Luke suppressed his wince at this.

"It appears," Romulus's voice was nearly a sigh, "we shall have to rely on the good nature of our rebel friends."

Dread filled Clover's expression as he turned slowly, never letting go of Luke, to face the fading sounds of warfare from behind the rusted ruins of the overturned stall. Romulus looked on in resigned despair. Luke's vision was a vertigo blur of the hot sands as his head drooped, and his eyes began to slide shut as he found himself relying heavily on the satyr.

\- - -

Sweat poured from Piper's brow as she threw herself against the dirt walls of the underground caverns, and she bit back a cry as she felt the jagged rocks dig into her back and ribs, forcing her aching body to be as still as possible as she moved ever deeper into the shadows. Across from her, there was a scrabbling movement, and the goddess of luck, Tyche, dragged herself from the large corridor Piper had just escaped, and pressed herself into a mirror image of Piper's own position.

The goddess's features were marred by dirt, sweat, and blood, but Piper could still make out the determination in her eyes that were, once upon a time, kind and gentle. Her hair, once golden, had been turned dark and grimy by the pervading dust in the air. Piper wondered how much she, herself, had changed in the past months.

Piper nodded breathlessly in a grim greeting, and Tyche returned it, their chests heaving in what was almost unison.

Drew Tanaka had gone down a few minutes ago, and though Piper had never appreciated the woman's irritating habit of sickly sweet kindness that hid more knives than hugs, she truly regretted her death. But the task at hand had quickly pushed aside the mournful thoughts.

Piper's eyes darted about the corridor they had slipped into, and she immediately recognized the familiar glow of red at the end: the glow the troop of ambassadors had been following throughout the underground caverns torn beneath what used to be New York. One look at Tyche confirmed that she, too, had noticed it. Piper steeled herself, vowing that they would not fail at this. The traps that had been set into these corridors and caverns were deadly- they'd lost many in the past week- and Piper's heart was filled to brewing with recognition that she no longer held only the weight of the mission on her shoulders, but the weight of the dead also.

The daughter of Aphrodite tightened her grip on the handgun hanging in her hand at her side and crouched to the ready. Tyche mimicked her position, only her weapon of choice was a long, wicked spear that had skewered many an unexpecting monster in the past months.

One glance was shared between the two, and then they were off.

The cavern walls were a blur as they sprinted wildly down the dirt corridor, pushing their bodies to speeds they had never known, speeding past the traps that already seemed to close directly at their heels: knives and spears flinging themselves from the wall just after their forms had past to embed themselves deep within the opposite wall, gaping holes opening in the dirt beneath them, just after their heels had cleared them.

Piper's lungs were heaving, each breath a rending spike of pain. Her legs were jelly, and still she forced them on. Her hands clawed at the air before her as if to push herself forward through the sweltering heat originating from the red glow before them, the red glow that permeated everything. Piper suddenly had the passing impression that she might be running through the flames of Hell.

There was a cry of pain as what appeared to be a bear trap clapped around Piper's ankle, tearing through her flesh. She fell with a crushing thud, and gasped for air as the wind rushed from her lungs and her ribs screamed in pain.

Tyche skidded to a halt, slamming into the dirt and rock walls. Blood leaking from her cheek indicated she had not been completely unharmed by the contact. She scurried back to Piper as the woman gasped for her to keep moving forward.

Too exhausted to speak, Tyche only shook her head ferociously and stumbled to her friend, who was now being dragged into the dirt by the magical trap.

With a look more of frustration and irritation than panic, Tyche brought the butt of her spear down upon the wire dragging Piper and the trap into the earth. With a squeal, the trap sprung loose of Piper's leg; she had enough instinctual energy to rip her leg out of the trap's reach before it snapped closed again, this time on thin air.

Tyche helped Piper to her feet, and the daughter of Aphrodite hissed in pain as she put her weight on the injured leg. Blood spurted from the wound.

Tyche looked concerned, but Piper waved it away, finally with the breath to speak.

"Don't worry about it." Her voice was breathless. "We need to keep going."

Grimly, Tyche nodded. This mission had left little time for the care of wounds. Many of them had been running on torn ligaments, tendons, and fractured limbs. Hunting Nemesis had become a deadly mission, one that Piper was wishing she had not been required to lead. Of the ten that had set out, her and Tyche were the only two left.

And Nemesis had still not been caught.

But the red glow ahead indicated she was here, and Piper gladly put aside her personal pain if only to make the losses this mission had suffered worth it.

The two started slowly, Piper leaning heavily on Tyche, but the first trap narrowly avoided, a slowly opening trap in the floor, brought them back to the tearing pace they had been at before. They seemed to be sprinting for an indeterminate amount of time, Piper's world a haze of pain and adrenaline, Tyche's one of the red glow far ahead.

As they ran, they began to notice the traps becoming more and more half-hearted, and they hoped beyond hope that maybe Nemesis was beginning to lose the motivation she had obviously possessed before.

Smoke began to fill their eyes and lungs, and Tyche noticed they were nearing a large circular room. She grabbed hold of Piper just as the woman had been about to sprint through the large doorway and into the light of a large bonfire. The goddess of luck jerked Piper into the wall, and winced a little when Piper's shoulder-blades were rammed into a sharp outcropping of rock. Piper bit back a yelp, suddenly aware of her surroundings through her haze of pain.

Tyche gestured through the opening and past the bonfire to the figure of Nemesis, standing tall in the light, obviously waiting for them to enter.

Piper watched the goddess of luck. She remembered what Leo had told her of Nemesis, how the goddess had told him, "Good luck is a sham. The wheel of fortune is a Ponzi scheme." And now the goddess of luck was here. Obviously Nemesis would resent that. But Piper also remembered that Nemesis had been _against_ Gaea in the past war, and that gave her hope. Though the constant traps and death that it had taken to get to the goddess had indicated that she might not be willing to apply herself with them against Tartarus and Ouranus.

"Well, don't just stand there!" Nemesis's voice rang out in the corridors, though the sound was absorbed in the dirt walls.

Tyche nodded to Piper, indicating that they did, indeed, need to enter. Together, the two moved forward into the light of the bonfire, Piper limping heavily.

Nemesis stood before them, her hands on her hips, dressed in leather skinny jeans, a red leather jacket, and an old tattered t-shirt. The goddess hissed in anger at the sight of Tyche, and Piper winced. She had a feeling negotiations would not be quite as successful as she hoped.

Piper opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Nemesis.

"I know why you're here," she snapped. "Don't waste your breath."

Piper nodded in understanding, secretly grateful. Her lungs still hurt, and her ribs weren't in much better shape.

"Why do you fight us?" Piper asked, the faces of her now dead friends flashing in her mind's eye.

"Tartarus seeks revenge. It is my duty to side with him." Her voice never lost its edge.

"And does he deserve such revenge?" Tyche had found her voice.

Nemesis lost control of her anger and bitterness when her rival spoke. "_Deserve_? Who are you to speak of _deserving_? You hand to people what they could never _deserve_!" Almost in stereo with Nemesis's fiery burst, the fire seemed to leap higher and glow brighter. Piper flinched away from the sudden explosion of heat, shielding her eyes.

"The question still stands!" Piper's voice felt weak with exhaustion. Charmspeak would not be an ally, nor would she want it to be.

Nemesis's burning golden eyes whirled upon Piper, her bushy black hair bouncing as she did so. Piper resisted the urge to flinch.

"No," Nemesis returned, her temper somewhat calming, "he does not. If anything, he deserves his punishment. He was given power he misused." Nemesis sighed, and Piper took the moment to interject.

"Then why do you ally yourself with him?" Her voice was demanding, losing a little of the respect she had been intending to have when she considered speaking to the goddess.

"Because, impertinent girl," Nemesis spat before calming, "Tartarus seeks revenge. As I said before, it is my duty to join him."

"And you must follow through with such duty?" Piper persisted.

"What are you doing?" Nemesis returned, and Piper did not miss the beaten look that broke into the goddess's expression.

Piper bypassed the question; they all knew the answer. "Gaea was seeking revenge, and yet you did not ally yourself with her," she returned.

"_Pah_," Nemesis waved a hand, "Gaea's vengeance was petty in comparison to Tartarus's. Imagine for yourself the torment he suffered- suffers. No, his thirst could consume whole oceans of revenge and remain unsatisfied. I _cannot_ resist his call."

Piper gaped, despair surging forth in her heart, at a loss as to what to do.

It was then that Nemesis took pity upon her, if such a possibility existed in her heart, and she bypassed the presence of Tyche, who had thought better of her joining Piper and promptly receded a little into the shadows.

"I will not, however, persecute you and your fellows directly. My will, though, is not my own. Tartarus has far more power over it than I do. Hence your difficulty to arrive." Nemesis gestured to the maze of bloody corridors Piper's path had taken her through.

Frustration filled Piper then: frustration and pity, and hot tears began to slip down her already stained face.

She stomped forward, closer to the light. "My friends _died_ here, Nemesis. _Died_. I will not- I _cannot_\- accept that answer!" Her voice was choked with emotion; fire burned in her eyes, and it was not merely a reflection of Nemesis's bonfire.

Nemesis's features hardened. "You will have to."

And, as Piper prepared to charge forward and Tyche moved to stop her, Nemesis flicked her hand toward them, and Piper charged forward into the hollow streets of New York.

She skidded to a stop when she realized where she was. Behind her, Tyche watched her young friend, sorrow brimming in her eyes.

Piper fell to her knees and looked out at the world about her. What was once a churning place of life was now an empty ghost town, all the mortals evacuated to Ogygia through the assistance of Annabeth and Calypso. The buildings and skyscrapers were broken and dilapidated, not having seen the care of human hands for months now. Across from her position, Piper looked into the gutted contents of a McDonald's, the windows shattered, the booths thrown about helter skelter by the monster raids that had ravaged anything living.

An animal scream broke from Piper's lips, and she roared at the sky, at fate, at all that had happened, and at the hopelessness that threatened to stop her heart. She screamed until she could scream no more, and then she stilled, staring down at her hands, bloody, dirty, sweaty. Tears began to pour in sheets down her face.

Tyche did not move from her position, only watching the mortal before her. How long had she taken her ease for granted, when there were such people as this? Broken and cowed by reality, the mortals still stood tall, strong, courageously staring down their misfortune and pain, fighting back for everything they loved. In all the pain and chaos she had experienced at the side of Piper, only now did the daughter of Aphrodite break. Tyche fully expected the woman to stay like that, fully expected her to go mad, but when Piper looked up, her eyes were vividly lucid, vividly sane.

"We need to contact Reyna." She told the goddess, moving to stand. When she did, though, her injured ankle gave out, and she buckled, bashing her knees on the asphalt of the empty street before Tyche had time to catch her.

The goddess helped her to her feet and slipped one of Piper's arms about her own shoulders. The two moved slowly toward the ravaged McDonald's, pushing through the only remaining door, hanging from a single hinge, and into the ghostly interior.

Together, they moved to the kitchen and reached the sink. Tyche turned on the faucet and pulled it away that she might place her thumb over and it and turn it to mist. Piper leaned against the counter, unable to rely on her ankle, and fished about in her satchel for a drachma. Finding it, she flipped it into the stream of mist and spoke the necessary supplication.

Reyna appeared. Piper noted with consternation that her friend seemed to have aged many years since last she had contacted her.

Piper opened her mouth to speak, to reveal the losses they'd suffered and Nemesis's predicament, but Reyna cut her off, raising a silencing hand. Sorrow and pity filled Reyna's heart, and she struggled to find the courage to put into words what she knew. Finally, she settled for the words that were hovering on her tongue.

"Piper...," she choked, "I'm so sorry, but Jason is dead."

Piper froze in shock.

\- - -

The alien seemed to take particular joy in shoving Cassian against the rocky walls of their small cell, and Rowan was having none of it. Almost involuntarily, her fist flew, and she socked the alien in the face when it had thrown Cassian a second time. It hissed in pain and glared at her; undaunted, she glared directly back, and it backed off with an expression of disgust.

Rowan turned to see Cassian's expression to be one of concern.

Rowan had changed. It was imperceptible, barely there, but Cassian had worked with her long enough to understand the subtleties of her behavior, the little ways her personality filtered into it. And none of those ways were apparent now. Apathy. It was all apathy. Aside from the few moments of her-ness that he'd seen in action, specifically when they had been confronted with the Stormtroopers, there was nothing. Her eyes had receded, taking her personality with it. And he didn't miss the fact that, once she had lashed out against their captor and turned to face him, their gazes didn't meet.

He'd been expecting a sarcastic comment. All he'd gotten was silence.

Working hard at shoving his concern out of his features, Cassian moved to the grated door, looking through to what appeared to be the extremists' common room. Tables and various games that belonged more in casinos littered the place, interspersed with aliens of all different races and weapons lying casually about. Lying casually about, but in reach of the fighters, Cassian corrected. They would not make it out alive if they hurried to escape now. His heart dropped, but he forced himself to continue his examination, remembering what he'd told Jyn: "Rebellions are built on hope." He'd be a hypocrite if he didn't act on that now.

He progressively became aware of conversation behind him.

"I'm one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I'm one with the Force, and the Force is with me." The blind one was repeating over and over, a buzzing undertone to his thoughts; at one point in the chaos of their capture, Cassian remembered Jyn telling him and Rowan that the man's name was Chirrut Imwë. The other one, they had yet to learn the identity of, and as if on queue , he spoke.

"You pray?" His voice was incredulous as he asked the question of Chirrut in broken English.

"I'm one with the Force, and the Force is with me." Chirrut disregarded his friend, continuing his chant.

"Really?" The man's confusion did not abate, though amusement filtered into his tone.

Cassian tried to refocus on the predicament, wishing their new companions would silence themselves.

"I'm one with the Force, and the Force is with me." Chirrut again ignored his friend, though Cassian had the sudden feeling that the blind man was not at all as ignorant as he let on.

"He's praying for the door to open." The comment was directed at Cassian and Rowan.

Cassian glanced back, irritation on his features. He did not miss the sight of Rowan, leaning back against the rock, watching the ceiling. She wasn't paying any attention to the proceedings. Not until Chirrut spoke, breaking his litany.

"It bothers him because he knows it's possible." The comment was one for the rest of them in relation to the large man's cynical incredulity, but Rowan knew, from Chirrut's tone, that it was also directed at Cassian, for she had looked up when the blind man spoke, only to see Cassian's tense form crouched by the door. "Baze Malbus was once the most devoted Guardian of us all!" Chirrut's voice broke the unspoken regulations of volume in the cell, and Rowan flinched at it, but she was glad to learn the name of the large man.

Cassian evidently knew the comment to be directed at him, too. "I'm beginning to think the Force and I have different priorities."

He was unlacing his boot now, revealing the pack tied to his ankle. In it, he found the wires he was looking for. His instincts were kicking in; something was about to happen, and he intended to use that something to their advantage. But first, he would have to break the electric lock much the same way Rowan had broken his. The memory made him smirk.

"Relax, captain." Baze's voice was infuriatingly calm. "We've been in worse cages than this one."

"This is a first for me," Cassian returned, and Rowan began to pay closer attention to how tense the muscles in his shoulders were. He was expecting something, and she began to feel it, too. The sixth sense of survival, honed to a fine point in the both of them, was tingling. Suddenly, life flickered in her eyes. She put aside her frustration and despair for the moment and forced herself to focus, monitoring the actions of the aliens in the room beyond.

Chirrut, too, was sitting up now, no longer lounging against the rocks as she herself had been. "There is more than one sort of prison, captain," and Chirrut's voice spoke the word with significance. "I sense that you carry yours wherever you go."

Rowan saw that the comment unsettled Cassian, and feeling for her friend, she snapped.

"Oh, lay off, will you?" Her voice was harsh, and Cassian looked back, confusion slipping across his features.

She shrugged an apology for her former behavior, the shrug an attempt to console him. Cassian was just glad to have her back to normal, for he knew that she, too, had sensed the catastrophe ahead.

The cell descended into silence for a time, Cassian and Rowan watching intently the world about them, Baze lounging, and Chirrut sitting in silence.

Finally, the blind man spoke, and startled Rowan, who shot him a glare he could not see. Cassian smirked at this.

"Who is the one in the next cell?"

Rowan's curiosity was piqued, and she moved to look, but Baze had gotten there first. Shrugging, she returned to Cassian's side, but the captain had also been aroused, and was watching Baze closely.

"What? Where?" he asked, standing a little straighter from his crouched position.

"An Imperial pilot!" Baze's voice held brimming anger, and Rowan remembered all that the Empire had taken from his home.

"A pilot?" Cassian's voice was alarmed in turn, and only then did Rowan truly realize what was happening.

"I'm gonna kill him!" Baze roared, his eyes fiery, his arms reaching through the bars of the window and gripping hold of the pilot's neck.

Only then did Rowan and Cassian spring into action, scrambling across the cell and grabbing hold of Baze's arms in a frantic attempt to stop the man's murderous rage from taking effect.

"No, no, no! No wait!" Cassian cried as he jerked the man's arms away from the pilot. Rowan did the same, and then Baze was away from the window, heaving with seething rage. Rowan shot him a concerned, but quelling look, and then turned back to the pilot.

The skirmish of energy calmed, and the cell seemed to grow deathly still after the sudden emotional outburst, and Rowan watched the pilot as Cassian spoke, his voice desperate and hopeful, a strange combination.

The pilot was the same one that Rowan had seen in the "wanted" holograms in the city of Jedha, the same lanky black hair, greasy, long, and mostly pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. His facial hair was scraggly and irregular: some sideburns, a mustache, and something resembling the start of a beard. His eyes were black and lolling and dazed, hair pulled away from it by the goggles that she recognized.

Cassian didn't nudge the man, didn't touch him, and Rowan knew why. The pilot was insane, or at least vegetative, and she herself would not have wanted to rush him back to full consciousness, in case valuable information would be lost. She recognized the madness as being a result of a confrontation with Bor Gullet, Saw Gererra's horror-movie-like pet that could supposedly read the minds of those it met at the cost of their sanity. She'd almost been forced to undergo the experience, but escaped at the last minute.

"Are you the pilot?" Cassian asked, and when the pilot didn't respond, he verbally prodded the man further. "Hey, hey." His voice was gentle, but desperation still lurked beneath. "Are you the pilot?" The pilot only groaned; his head lolled a little more. Cassian was growing more urgent, and he began to search for something, anything, to bring back the pilot's sanity. "The shuttle pilot? Pilot?" He was begging now.

"What's wrong with him?" Chirrut spoke up, and Rowan whipped around, putting a finger to her lips, though she didn't realize he would not have seen it until she turned back to the pilot and Cassian, who was delicately entreating the pilot to return to normal.

"Galen Erso?" Cassian asked, and the name seemed to arouse the pilot. He jerked a little out of his stupor and faced Cassian and Rowan, eyes clearing. Cassian breathed a sigh of relief. "You know that name?"

"I brought the message...," the pilot muttered weakly, using the words as a lifeline back to sanity, following them the way Rowan had once followed Ariadne's string through the Labyrinth. "I'm the pilot... I brought the message." His voice suddenly gained strength; his eyes became intently lucid, and he fixed Cassian's gaze, saying proudly, "I'm the pilot."

Rowan could feel Cassian's muscles relax in relief, pressed next to him to speak to the pilot. "Okay, good," he breathed, before his voice hardened. "Now, where is Galen Erso?"


	20. Ninteen

"Hey!" Clover did not attempt to mask the panic in his voice as the three of them came across the first group of rebels in the vicinity, hurrying toward them and waving his arms wildly to catch their attention in the dizzy haze of heat. "This man's hurt! We need help!"

Luke was indeed hurt, and hurt badly. He was leaning heavily on Romulus now, each breath a horrible, cracking gasp for air. The wound was a sickly color, and both Clover and Romulus resisted the urge to retch at the sight. Luke resisted the urge to retch from the pain.

The group of three dusty, sweaty, bloody men turned abruptly to the approaching three, hands tightening about their weapons in alarm. Romulus and Luke, dragging behind the satyr, stumbling and trudging through the burning sand, paid the group no mind, focusing simply on getting the young demigod to shelter and, hopefully, health. Clover, however, started. His eyes flashed as the weapons were leveled at him, and he tensed into a defensive position, ready to charge any and all attackers that headed his way.

Luckily, he didn't have to.

One of the men, evidently one of high influence, caught sight of Luke's weak, hanging form, and his eyes tightened.

"Help 'im," he muttered to his compatriots, and they scrambled toward Luke.

Clover watched them as they passed, turning to catch sight of them lift Luke off Romulus's shoulders and ease him onto their own. Romulus looked relieved, though Clover did not miss the glint of fear in his eyes, and the satyr's own heart dropped in anticipation of all that could go wrong. He decided, then and there, that today would not be the day Luke died.

Resolutely, he turned to the man who had helped him, but the man's weathered features showed something that was far from kind. His eyes were hard, very hard, as if the barren wasteland of the planet had left him devoid of emotion, too.

"Who are you?" It was a question, and one Clover did not know how to answer.

To say they were rebels would invite questions and suspicions they could not answer to. To say they were with the Empire would be to condemn them to a quick death by way of a blaster bullet. Clover hastily chose the third option, their only option.

"We live here...," Clover paused, surveying the surroundings, "_Used_ to live here," he corrected.

Indeed, the little trading post that had once been a majority of the civilized world of Jakku was now more akin to the trash heaps its scavengers dug through. Up close, Clover could see much more clearly the devastation the conflict had brought upon the town. He tried to avoid the sights of the mangled dead, thrown by explosions into overturned trading stalls, skewered by rusted ruins of buildings, but his eyes were still drawn to them.

He wondered, then, how much the rebellion was truly worth its cost. The man before him seemed to be having the same thoughts, his own eyes traveling about the graveyard of the town.

"I apologize." His voice was grave, and Clover looked back to him to see that emotion had returned to the wasteland of his eyes.

Clover nodded his acceptance, and then promptly turned to Luke and Romulus.

"My friend," he reminded the men, "He needs help immediately."

He turned back to the leader of the group, but all emotion had fled his eyes. "We will take you before our lieutenant, and he will decide what to do with you from there. We cannot provide you much medical assistance, and for that, again, I apologize. But we cannot risk the presence of the Empire among the survivors."

Understanding, Clover nodded. The three could do nothing to change this, but he protested against the fact that Luke would have little help. Then again, he reminded himself, he doubted the "medical assistance" of the Rebellion could affect the poison that was now surging through Luke's veins. One glance in Romulus's direction confirmed it.

The werewolf was standing tall, watching the proceedings with those intense blue eyes that seemed to be able to rend one's soul from their body, examine it, and return it, all in a first glance. But they were sad now: not hopeless, but sad.

"Very well," Romulus agreed when the conversation was done. "Take us where we must go. All I ask is what I need to care for my friend."

As if conscious of his surroundings, Luke's head lolled, and Clover's heart sunk.

\- - -

Cassian and Rowan's instincts had not lead them wrong. Through a barred window opposite them that let a few streams of light sift into the partisan base, they watched the massive column of green energy slam into Jedha City, destroying it and every inhabitant in waves of flame.

They had little time to grieve, for then they saw that the waves of flame had lifted the earth itself and were now rolling toward them.

The partisans scrambled in panic, a disorganized stampede to escape the impending doom headed straight toward them. But Cassian and Rowan were ready. Nodding to her, Cassian sparked the lock to their cell, and it slid open, violently slamming into the ceiling.

"Get Jyn!" Cassian commanded, but Rowan didn't need it, for she was already sprinting down the hall toward wherever Jyn had been led, dodging falling debris and hoping beyond hope she would not be crushed in her scramble to get to the woman. Her eyes were wide, her pace frantic as she slammed into walls and around corners, grunting in pain when a particularly sharp corner stabbed into her ribs.

Relief would have brought laughter to her lips had she not been in so much pain when she saw the large circular room at the end of the winding passageway, its entrance not yet blocked by the falling debris. Jyn knelt in the center, curled into herself, a position of such despair and sorrow that Rowan could not help but pity. But urgency forced her neglect of the subject, and she charged into the room, roaring Jyn's name.

She skidded to a halt at the sight of Saw Gererra watching her, much of his body replaced with mechanics, the rest frazzled with madness. There was the gleam of it in his eyes, paranoia brought upon by so much war, and Rowan inched forward to Jyn now, finger readied to pull the trigger of her blaster should the situation call for it. She had met such men in prison, POW's that had drowned their wits in bloodlust. She became acutely aware of the ring on her finger.

Her eyes never left Saw's as she crouched beside Jyn, her hand coming to rest upon the woman's shoulder with as much compassion as she could muster. The fog of her own sorrow and bitterness was lifted from her mind at the sight of her companion's state.

"Jyn..." she said lowly, forcing herself to control her panic, "Jyn, we need to go."

But the woman was unresponsive, still frozen in the pain that had rent her heart, the pain brought to the surface in the tears rolling down her cheeks. There was a loud clatter of footsteps behind them, and Rowan whipped about, leveling her blaster at the potential threat, and was relieved when it was Cassian's face, streaked with sweat and dirt, that appeared in the doorway.

"Rowan!" His voice was urgent, loud. "We've got to go!"

He looked helplessly to Jyn's form, but Rowan had turned back to her, and was now gripping her upper arm and pulling her to her feet despite the heaviness of her sorrow. Cassian was there then, his own blaster leveled at Saw.

"Jyn, we know where your father is." Cassian's voice was soft and persuasive, and to Rowan's relief, Jyn broke from her reverie.

Her eyes came violently back to the world about her, and dread filled her expression at the rolling wave of earth fast approaching.

"Go with them, Jyn." Saw's voice was soft and sad, and pity moved in Rowan's heart for the man who had once been truly great.

"Come with us," Jyn begged, now actively resisting Rowan's pull. She grunted at this, the pain in her side flaring to life once more.

Saw Gerrera's eyes grew tired. "No, I will run no longer." Rowan was taken aback by the sheer majesty that then entered his form, the way he drew himself up, prepared to face his end, and she thought with a pang of how honored her father would be to have such a man in his realm. Her grip loosened imperceptibly; her resolve weakened.

"Come on," Cassian whispered, already moving out of the collapsing room, his hand now wrapped about Rowan's forearm. At his voice, she started and realized the danger of their situation. The crashing sound of the rocks falling in the hall, coupled with the cacophony of faint screams and the violent trembling of the earth, growing ever more unsteady, urged her to tighten her grip on Jyn's arm and pull her back into the hall.

"But you must save yourself!" Jyn roared, struggling against Rowan with a returned vehemence toward the extremist.

But Saw Gerrera wasn't moving, and Rowan met his eyes then. She recognized the resolve that Jyn had not yet.

"Go! There's no time! Save the Rebellion! Save the dream!" Saw's voice rose above the tumult of noise, breaking through it all in a way that caused even Cassian to shudder, and Jyn's fight was finally ended. With a muttered curse, Rowan jerked Jyn back into the hall and forced her to keep moving. The three stumbled through the tunnels of the fortress, slamming into walls as they repeatedly lost their balance while the earth reeled beneath them.

There seemed no end to the dust and debris, each frantic step a pointless endeavor to escape death. But still they scrambled on, on until light streamed through the massive gates of the fortress, and the pounding noise found reprieve in the open air of the planet. Joy filled Rowan until she saw the wave of earth drawing ever nearer. Once outside, she realized its size to be far greater than she had seen through the window of Saw Gererra's private quarters and the window directly across from hers and her companion's cell.

"Where's K?" she roared to Cassian over the heart-wrenching sound of cracking earth.

"On his way!" Cassian roared back as they entered the exodus of partisans and prisoners running chaotically about in search for an escape. Rowan crashed into a stunned figure as she followed Cassian, and the two stumbled forward, fighting back against her original momentum. She grabbed hold of them and steadied them both, all the while continuing to move, forced forward by panic. She was relieved when she saw it was the pilot, Bohdi.

"We gotta go, mate! C'mon!" Her voice seemed impotent against the roaring destruction headed toward them, and it was. So entranced with what seemed his death, Bohdi was nearly frozen in place, the only indication of life his staggering struggle against the gusting, hurricane-like winds. Exasperated, Rowan grabbed hold of the dusty sleeve of his shabby uniform and pulled him forward, in the direction she assumed Cassian had gone.

Her eyes searched desperately through the haze of sand to find Cassian's familiar form, and unspeakable relief filled her when she spotted him, herding the escapees of their cell into the hovering belly of the U-Wing. K-2 had come. Spurred on by irrefutable hope, Rowan's steps grew faster, scrambling, as she dragged Bohdi, only now coming to terms with the chaos around them.

As they closed in on the U-Wing, Rowan met Cassian's eyes as he perched on the edge of the shaking, bobbing ship, reaching out his hands to grab and hoist Bohdi in, for the pilot had redoubled his speed a few feet away from his escape. Exhaustion surging through her limbs, Rowan threw herself forward and up just as Cassian turned about, and he caught her forearms. Momentum sent them tumbling in, and there was a loud bang before they were suddenly immersed in deathly quiet, broken only by the muffled roaring outside, and a dim, artificial light. Rowan shuddered at the impression, as if she had fallen into an ocean of bated stillness from a world of chaos.

Staving off the thoughts she worked desperately to avoid, she steeled her expression and her mind, extricated herself from the pile her and Cassian had landed in, helped him to his feet, and moved through the muttering mass of people to the cockpit. She did not see Cassian's expression when he beheld hers. It was concerned, kind, and dreading of what Rowan might have discovered in her lonely wanderings through what once had been the Holy City of Jedha.

\- - -

When Jason came to, his first reaction was surprise. There was no way that he ought to have survived that last attack, and his ears were still ringing from the blast of wind that had fired him far across the sky. In the struggle to regain power over his venti, he'd lost consciousness- and control. Before all had gone black, he'd seen the Atlantic Ocean rising to meet his body, free-falling through the air as the sky seemed to laugh maliciously about him.

Zeus was standing over him when his eyes, flickering, and his head, sore, registered the room in which he lay; it was their hastily constructed tent of cloud, close enough to the ocean and far enough from the sky to be relatively safe from the attacks of Ouranos, Koios, and Krios.

With a grunt of pain, he pushed himself up and examined his limbs. Little seemed harmed, but his legs were sore and bruised from his constant combat from the back of a horse-shaped venti, and he was sure his hair stood on end from his proximity to their lightning manes. About him, ducking beneath the folds of cloud and watching him closely and gravely, stood what little commanders their resistance could boast of: Aeolus, accompanied by Boreas, Zephyros, Notus, and Eurus, and an exhausted Zeus.

The god's war helm was discarded on an ornate table to the left of the cot, pushed into the corner. Outside, Jason could hear- no, sense- the unease of their forces: a hodgepodge collection of venti unwilling to serve Kymopoleia, whose defeat was inevitable anyway.

"So...," Jason's voice was tired, reflecting the lines carved into the faces of even the immortals around him, "what's next?"

It was the question no one wanted to ask, but the one lurking deep within their hearts all the same. For weeks now, they had barely staved off the forces of Ouranos, each day his army of three growing ever nearer to the earth they tried so desperately to protect. And, much the way they were losing ground, they were losing morale. It began to seem as if there was no hope left.

None of their messages were reaching headquarters either; Krios had made sure of that, destroying any and all lines of communication they once had. Jason could only imagine how his friends felt as they watched the failing battle in the sky, the encroaching arm of Ouranos, come to wipe them out, once and for all. The night before, there had been a major loss. The armed post led by Notus had been overrun with Koios's forces and had plunged into the sea. Most of the venti under his command had been swept up by Kymopoleia, and were no longer in control of their own will. Notus had barely escaped.

As if the others were pondering these circumstances with him, the mood of the room seemed drowned in dread and exhaustion. Jason slumped; the immortals began to pace listlessly about the tent.

There was suddenly a shift in energy from outside, and the six commanders lurched to attention, Jason sliding out of the cot and moving to the tent's entrance. The venti were restless, and one- a ghostly figure of a boy with electric eyes and smoky wings- moved through the ranks toward him. Jason hailed him respectfully, and the spirit quickened his pace.

"Koios is coming, my lord." The boy did his best to hide the note of dread in his voice. He had been one of the few venti to escape the ravages of Koios at Notus's outpost.

Jason nodded, refusing to entertain the fear that slunk into his heart. "Thank you," were his only words before he turned back into the tent. But Zeus had already heard, and was giving out his orders with the fire of a general not quite ready to admit hopelessness. Inspired, Jason listened closely for his own commands, and once informed, whirled about to the venti surrounding them.

Forcing his head high, he moved through the ranks to his own troop, calling out orders along the way until he hoisted himself upon the back of the faithful venti that had borne him through many of these battles, one he had unfortunately been forced to surrender to Aeolus during the last charge and replace with a less than loyal steed, the loyal steed that had been content with his plummet through space.

Reigning in the spirit that shifted with uncertainty beneath him, Jason turned to face the incoming threat. This was not the first attack from Koios they had been forced to face, and he swore to himself that it would not be the last, not unless it was Koios that admitted defeat. The titan came like a wind first, rustling through the ranks, instilling fear as the poisonous dread of his renowned power and intelligence stabbed knife-like into their minds. Jason did his best to ignore it, choosing instead to watch for the fateful darkening of the air that would indicate the titan's arrival.

Sure enough, it came, a large sweeping shadow that sent a whole rank of venti swirling through the skies, losing control of themselves. But the surprise worked only once, and the ranks about the first were prepared. Jason had only one moment of composure, one breath, before him and his troops were plunged into the raging battle.

With a roar, he charged, and the venti followed, concentrating his and their efforts onto the unguarded shadow of the titan's torso, aiming directly for the heart. Though they could not kill the immortal, they could weaken him, incapacitate him enough for Zeus and Aeolus to sweep from the heavens and launch a barrage of power upon the titan's head, driving him back across the ground they had lost. They desperately needed a victory; the venti were less inclined to fight their enemies with each passing hour, and Jason could feel an unhealthy urge within the troops about him to drop their loyalties and flee to the service of Kymopoleia down below.

The fight was loud and muffled in Jason's ears as he worked his troop ever further into the dark mass of swirling air and lightning that indicated the heart of the battle. It was uncanny, this fight. A rustling breeze might be just that or it might be a warrior passing close by, headed into even greater peril. As the world about him grew darker and darker, to the point where he struggled to see the blade gripped tightly in his hand, it also grew eerily silent. No longer could he hear the sounds of battle, nor the troop behind him, nor the crackle of lightning arching through the air from his father's bolts.

Uncertain, Jason stilled the venti beneath him, forcing his muscles to relax, his breathing to slow, as he turned the spirit in a circle, examining the dark world about him. Nothing moved in the shadows, not even his breath stirred the air. Fear clenched his heart, and the venti whinnied uncomfortably, shifting about on its hooves. Jason placed a comforting hand upon the spirit's sleek neck, forcing himself to use the glow of the lightning mane to peer further into the darkness. But there was nothing, and Jason was alone.

Suddenly, light burst about him, and he cried out in pain, throwing up his arms to shield his eyes. It was a cold blue, icy brilliance, and it was some time before Jason could lower arms to examine what had happened. With dread, his gaze met two massive eyes, glowering down upon him, anger seething beneath the surface. Jason had missed the titan's heart. He was now face to face with Koios and had no backup.

"Hello, son of Jupiter," came the voice, old, majestic, like the open sky of a thousand centuries, and angry with the anger of a thousand centuries of wrong.

Jason couldn't breathe. He gripped his sword tightly, involuntarily readying himself against a fight he knew he could never win. The titan laughed, and only then did Jason realize his futility in the face of such immorality. What was he, a mortal, to do against the might of a creature that had existed since near the dawn of time? Beneath him, the venti reeled.

"Why fight, boy?" The last word was spat. "Why fight a battle you cannot win?"

Jason had no answer, though he knew in his heart of hearts he would not surrender. Koios knew it, too, but laughed mockingly, scathingly, raised his arm, and then Jason was tumbling out of the sky, losing control, plummeting through space once more. About him, lightning flashed, thunder roared, the cries of battle raged on, but there was no tether, no tie, that could hold him to the venti swept from beneath him.

The darkness swirling confusedly about his falling body ended abruptly, and he broke through the cloud line and into the sun. Beneath him, the Atlantic glittered like diamonds and sapphires, the sun reflected off each wave, and Jason had a distinct feeling of deja vu. Suddenly, the reality of his situation hit his stunned mind, and he roared out in alarm.

Beside him, his faithful venti fell, too, floundering in the air just as he did. Scrambling against the wind, Jason steadied himself and propelled himself toward the spirit, calling out for it to steady as he grabbed hold of its mane, ignoring the sensation of electricity running up his arms. With a roar of effort, he pulled himself onto the creatures back, and the both of them slowed to a halt far beneath the battle raging above.

It was then that Jason caught sight of something on the horizon, a darkening against the sun, sickly green. He turned the venti in the direction of the discoloring, and his heart fell like a lead weight to his gut.

There on the horizon, moving steadily and surely toward the coastline on which the last remaining headquarters of demigods sheltered, was Typhon, coming like a tornado of sickening chaos and destruction.

As Jason's eyes widened and his soul seemed torn in two by the despair and dread that ravaged him, he remembered Koios's words, and they whispered in his ears like some confirmation of defeat: _"Why fight, boy? Why fight a battle you cannot win?"_


	21. Twenty

Rowan's melancholy had come back in a single wave, and she was actively doing her best to suppress it. One look to his left, watching her stand between his and K's chair in the cockpit, biting hard down upon her trembling lip, staring determinedly at the endless sea of stars slipping wildly past them, was enough to confirm that she was fighting a battle she could not win.

Hesitantly, Cassian slipped past her into the hall and reached for the radio. Luckily during their escape from Jedha, the communication lines had not been damaged. He could not promise he could say the same for the rest of the ship; he had a feeling it would not hold out well during this next trip, and he could only hope there would be a way to fix the damages when they arrived at Eadu.

Cassian swallowed painfully as he radioed the Rebellion, his eyes closing for one moment in despair as he recalled the destruction of the Holy City. There was no way to estimate how many had died in that moment, how many lives extinguished as if they were nothing.

Leaning against the wall, supporting herself with the back of K's chair as the ship rocked and rolled a little more than usual, something Rowan could only attribute to damage to the stabilizers, Rowan watched Cassian closely.

He would be forced to go through with this mission. Once Draven heard about the massacre of Jedha City, there would be no chance that he would let Galen Erso live, and the slump, barely perceptible, in Cassian's shoulders revealed as much. Pity shifted to the surface in Rowan's heart, but Cassian didn't meet her eyes when he turned back to the cockpit. It was conversation behind him that arrested his steps. He froze solemnly as Chirrut spoke. Rowan looked to the ground, wrenching despair surging forth in her heart.

"Baze, tell me," the blind man begged, "All of it? The whole city?"

Baze seemed reluctant to answer. Rowan had never seen the soldier so despondent, so uncertain of himself.

"_Tell me_." In Chirrut's voice, she heard a pain she herself could not comprehend for the city, and she realized that Chirrut would have known many, if not all of the inhabitants of the city. He had lost more than his home.

"All of it," Baze forced the words from his lips, the anger and helplessness of his grief taking control.

Cassian tensed his shoulders against the conversation behind him and moved to stand beside Rowan and behind K, staring out at the stars streaking past. Rowan watched him, attempting to read his expression despite his efforts not to meet her eyes. He was steeling himself for the mission ahead, steeling himself to kill Galen Erso.

"Set a course for Eadu," he commanded K, his voice low, harsh.

"Setting course for Eadu," K confirmed, loud enough for the rest of the ship to hear. Cassian winced at the volume.

"Is that where my father is?" Jyn's voice broke through the silence as she stood, moving toward the cockpit, excitement alight in her eyes. Rowan didn't miss the way Bohdi sat straighter in his seat in the corner, now watching the conversation unfold with interest, the listlessness receding from his eyes.

"I think so," Cassian answered gruffly, turning about to face her and the others. He barely caught Rowan's eyes when he did so, and there was a brief moment of shared understanding, shared regret, shared guilt.

"So you're Galen's daughter?" Bohdi shifted as he asked, and Jyn turned back to him, her eyes brightening even more.

"You know him?" Her voice was unsteady.

"I'm Bohdi, the pilot," he returned.

"You brought the message," Jyn breathed, wonder in her expression.

"Yes, your father..." Bohdi's voice was soft, hesitant, some deep emotion barely contained surfacing. "He- he said I could get right by myself. He said I could make it right, if I was brave enough and listened to what was in my heart," the last words were whispered, but not lost on Cassian, who tensed defensively, "Do something about it..." There was a pause as Bohdi's sorrow surfaced. "Guess it was too late," he shrugged helplessly.

"It wasn't too late," Jyn fired back, hope spurning her words forward.

"Seems pretty late to me," Baze muttered in return, bitterness seething deep within.

"No," and Jyn turned about, meeting the eyes of all in the room. Cassian flinched imperceptibly when she met his. Rowan simply looked to the ground. "We can beat the people who did this. My father's message, I've seen it," she paused to breathe. "They call it the Death Star, but they have no idea there's a way to defeat it." She swung about to face Cassian, and he looked up, startled. "You're wrong about my father."

Anger burned in Cassian's eyes at this affront, and he took a step forward, meeting her gaze. "He did build it," he hissed.

"Because he knew they'd do it without him," Jyn fired back. "My father made a choice," she explained, again taking in the expressions of the others in the ship. "He sacrificed himself for the Rebellion. He's rigged a trap inside it. That's why he sent you," she gestured to Bohdi, "to bring that message."

Hope slipped into Cassian's voice. "Where is it? Where's the message?"

Jyn took a step backward, and defeat glimmered with tears in her eyes. Rowan suddenly knew that there was no hope, not for Cassian.

"It was a hologram," Jyn returned.

Cassian stepped forward, now desperate. "You have that message, right?"

"Everything happened so fast," Jyn muttered, scrambling for an escape from the intensity of Cassian's eyes.

"Did you see it?" Cassian persisted, brokenness in his tone.

"You don't believe me." Again, Jyn looked defeated.

Cassian shrugged helplessly. "I'm not the one you've gotta convince."

"I believe her," Chirrut put in, sitting up in his seat, fixing his milky eyes upon where Cassian's voice came from. Rowan also looked to him, recognizing the despair that ravaged his mind.

"That's good to know," Cassian shot toward him, hopelessness taking hold.

"What kind of trap?" Baze suddenly spoke up, and all eyes fell to him, forcing him to elaborate. "You said your father made a trap."

Stunned at his interjection to the tense flow of conversation, it was a moment before Jyn could respond. "The reactor," she answered. "He's placed a weakness there. He's been hiding it for years." Jyn's voice grew more and more passionate with each word. "He said if you can blow the reactor- the module- the whole system goes down. You need to send word to the Alliance." Again, she directed her words harshly toward Cassian.

"I've done that," Cassian shot back.

"They have to know that there's a way to destroy this thing. They have to go to Scarif to get the plans."

"I can't risk sending that. We're in the heart of Imperial territory." And both him and Rowan knew that Draven would not believe such a statement. The message itself had been Cassian's only hope. Without it, there was nothing to prevent Erso's death.

"Then we'll find him. And bring him back, and he can tell them himself," Jyn returned, her voice loud and hopeful, childishly proud.

Cassian did not meet Rowan's eyes as he turned to the cockpit and slid in beside K-2.

\- - -

The rebels had been kind enough to give Romulus all of their healing materials not in use before they lowered him and his companions into a deep pit- the closest thing they had to a prison- with armed guards roaming the perimeter. Clover was anxious to discover that they were not the only ones captured by the rebels, and suddenly understood the danger of his claim that they had once lived there. Jakku was small; every citizen knew one another, and none of them knew Clover or Romulus. They could only hope that during Luke's short stay upon the desert planet, he'd come to know enough residents to make a lasting impression.

As Clover stood guard over the efforts of Romulus to heal Luke, he fiddled with a tattered portion of his sleeve and stared in compassion upon their fellow inhabitants of the pit. With the harsh sun beating down upon them, some had taken to hiding beneath blankets and shreds of clothing they had managed to extract from their homes before the rebellion destroyed what was left of their possessions. The ones that had not were staring listlessly at the walls, their faces emotionless, dead.

Sand and dust covered the majority of them, marring their features, caking their limbs, discoloring the rags draped upon their frail and starved bodies. Much of the population of Jakku appeared to be human. Only a few alien species interspersed the collection of homeless prisoners packed together. The view slowly cut away at the hope in Clover's heart, and he urged himself to keep his cool.

Not that he was cool. Sweat was running in rivulets down each and every limb and pouring from his hair line. His lips were parched, much like the survivors about him, and he could feel the sun's beating rays, as if they were slowly eating away at his skin. He could only hope these conditions would not hinder Luke's recovery, so it was with extensive relief that he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Where's Clover?" Luke groaned, and there was the shuffling of fabric as the demigod pushed himself to a seated position. Clover resisted the urge to exclaim in joy as he turned to see Luke resting against the dirt wall.

"He's here, Luke," Romulus answered soothingly, and looked back the satyr, who was now toying even more with the stressed fabric of his sleeve.

Luke smiled in relief at the sight of his friend, and leaned his head exhaustedly against the wall, taking one moment to breathe as his eyes slid closed and he relished in his life. And then he met the world once more with their shocking blue. "Where are we?" His voice was weak.

"A...," Romulus searched for the word, "prison."

"Ah...," Luke nodded, and then met Clover's eyes. He was taken aback by the compassion there, the ravaging worry that was finally receding, the relief glimmering there, and Luke's heart was stung by the affection of one he had never expected to call friend.

"Sorry 'bout all that," Luke apologized, gesturing to the torn fabric that indicated where the manticore's tail had gashed him.

Clover shook his head, ridding himself of the sentimentality of the moment with a rather comedic effort that brought a small smile to Luke's parched lips. "It's alright, mate. Just don't do it again. We coulda gotten outta here already."

Luke smirked as he shifted to get to his feet, his limbs weak. Romulus, seeing his intent, offered the demigod his shoulder, and the two rose with some effort. Luke muttered a "thanks" before examining the pit closely. The walls were sheer, and should they even be capable of climbing to the top, which was far, far up, they would be incapable of making it past the armed guards standing tall against the afternoon sun. The only way out would be with the help of their captors, which was unlikely. Luke's shoulders slumped with despair.

It was likely that they would be presented to the leaders of the rebellion, but unlikely it would be soon, and Luke was anxious to get to his sister. The prophecy still rang in his ears, foretelling doom, and Romulus's revelation that Rowan was currently with the son of Kronos, a man that undoubtedly had a target on his back, only furthered his urgency.

Suddenly, a whisper ran through the crowds of survivors, moving like a breeze through the trees till it reached Romulus's perked ears.

He grabbed hold of Clover's arm and dragged him to stand beside him, gripping Luke's arm in the same abrupt moment. Both the demigod and the satyr spasmed in fright, causing Romulus to hiss for their silence.

"The lieutenant's coming," the werewolf explained beneath his breath. Alarm seemed to radiate from him, causing the hair on the back of both Luke and Clover's necks to stand straight. Luke wished he were a strong as he once was, and armed. They'd taken every weapon the three had possessed from them before lowering them into their prison.

There was a shuffling above them, and the entire mass of prisoners turned their dead eyes, fear flickering to life, above. The armed guards had leveled their blasters at the population as a precaution, for one man was being let down upon a rope ladder into the midst of the survivors. In one movement, their gazes followed him slowly, agonizingly, to the ground. Luke noticed the sweat beading on the man's brow. He was in far more danger than any of them, even with the armed men standing guard.

His feet hit the ground in a plume of dust, and his eyes searched through the masses with a practiced air. He slipped between men and women, all still, all threatening. Restrained rage burned like an unseen fire between them all. The air seemed charged with energy not yet released. The man was well aware of it as he moved about the pit.

He came to a stop before the three of them. Luke, Romulus, and Clover didn't move, didn't blink. Each breath was of a forced calm, repressed and deathly quiet.

"You three," the man gestured, forcing discipline into his voice, though his hand trembled ever so slightly as he pointed to them, "come with me."

He turned abruptly, and the three shuffled after him, the eyes of the masses now boring into them. As Luke leaned heavily on the satyr, repaying him for their journey through the tunnels with Maz Kanata, he felt their gazes, like deadweights on his shoulders, and he knew that this was a wrong that would not be forgotten for many years after.

The man began to scale the rope ladder with skill and a little too much haste, in Luke's opinion, and they followed closely, Romulus electing to go first, and Clover silently commanding Luke to follow. Forcing as much strength into his limbs as he could, Luke took the ropes beneath his already calloused hands and heaved himself higher and higher, till the stifling air of the pit was replaced with the hot but free air of the plains above. Behind him, Clover looked back down as they reached the top. The survivors had turned their gazes back to the walls, but no longer listless, they held a bitterness seething beneath the surface.

The sunlight enveloped them with brilliant light as their unsteady feet reached the sandy surface, and they stumbled forward, following the man that had brought them up. He seemed far more calm now, walking with a commanding firmness through the soldiers surrounding the pit. Romulus paid the guards little mind, but Luke and Clover found themselves glancing about uncertainly as they passed each loaded blaster. Soon enough, they moved out of the ranks and were met with the sight of a collection of raggedly dressed, relatively wounded Rebellion commanders, ranks worn proudly on their uniforms.

One in particular emerged from the council, moving through the sand with a troubled expression upon his once-wretched features. He seemed a skeleton slowly restored to life, and his skin still bore the marks of starvation, if now a little less stretched across his bone. As they approached, he held out a welcoming, weakly trembling hand in greeting.

Confused, they each took it in turn as he spoke.

"Welcome, friends," he said calmly, and then apologetically, "I'm sorry for what you have suffered."

Clover only nodded and mumbled some acceptance. Romulus chose silence. Luke's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Why us?" His voice was harsh. He resisted the urge to point out the pit of other suffering survivors behind them, but the man seemed to understand.

"We will care for them later," he explained, "but you are far more important at this moment."

"Why?" Luke's curiosity piqued, and he focused instead on the strange intelligence glittering in the man's eyes.

Suddenly, the man threw back his head and laughed. Alarm shot through Luke, and he reached for the sword that wasn't there. Beside him, Romulus tensed, his hands involuntarily clenching into fists. The man was unaware, and laughed still more before he silenced himself.

"This is going to sound mad," he said, the mirth still glimmering in his eyes, "but I know that none of you are human, and none of you are from here. You're from a place called Earth, far outside of this and any galaxies we have contact with, and I know that the mythology of your ancients is somewhat true, and that you three are living representations of that."

Taken aback, Clover stumbled. "What?"

But the man did not respond, focusing instead on Luke. "I also know that your sister was here many days ago with a man touched by a power much like the one you were."

Stunned, Luke took a step forward. "_What_?" His voice was deadly calm, but the man was not intimidated.

"And I know that all three of you are burdened with the presence of a prophecy you cannot yet comprehend, but a prophecy that could spell the doom of the universe," the man finished, his eyes taking in the reactions of the three travelers. "Would I be correct in saying as much?"

Romulus was the first to break the baffled silence that descended over them all. "How do you know all of this?"

The man smiled proudly. "_Now_ you're asking the right questions. Come with me," and he gestured in the direction of a tent that had been pitched, rather haphazardly, near what was once a drinking fountain.

The trio followed him cautiously, glancing around at the other captains and commanders through which they passed. They were watched, but lazily, as if they were a passing distraction. In each of their eyes, Luke saw the same intelligence of the man they were following, the unsettling wisdom of spectators that observe and understand all that occurs about them. He shuddered and moved closer to Clover, who seemed to be undergoing the same sensations. Romulus, however, was calm, walking with assured strides after the man, curiosity more his expression than dread.

The man pushed through the tent's folds into the stifling, but cooler air of the shaded tent, and the three followed after. It was a simple army tent, a sandy color to match the desert landscape. At its center sat a table, hastily constructed from a few scraps of metal. Scattered across it were maps and canteens, along with the weapons the three had lost. Luke resisted the urge to lunge for Backbiter, stilling his twitching hands by digging his nails into his palms.

"Go ahead," the man nodded kindly, gesturing to the weapons, "they're yours."

Relieved, Luke moved forward, taking hold of the sword, feeling the warm sensation of calm and peace run through his limbs as he beheld his faithful weapon. About him, Romulus and Clover gathered up their various knives and blasters. With reluctance, Luke sheathed his blade and took his blaster from the table, slipping it into his belt.

"Now, what were you saying?" Clover asked, finally.

The man nodded with a smile. "Many months ago, my men and I were sent here on a mission from the Rebellion. We were to root out the presence of the Empire and destroy it. Unfortunately, they learned of our presence before we could do that, and we were chased out into the plains. We should have starved to death, only we didn't. Weekly, food would appear at the entrance to the U-Wing we hid in. We don't know where it came from, or we didn't then, but we ate it. Because of it, people began to go mad, speaking of lights inside of others they met and monsters. The monster was true- on a few missions to the city, some would come across the beast they described. We later lost those men and women to a comatose state, then death."

"The food was ambrosia," Romulus suddenly said, and Luke glanced over to see that his friend's once calm expression had become a mixture of both unease and relief. When he caught Luke's expression, he elaborated. "The U-Wing was mine. When I first arrived here, I needed a ship upon which I could survive for a long period of time with little communication with the outside world. It just so happened that the Rebellion had such a ship. I crashed it here." He suddenly looked to the man. "The ambrosia appeared weekly as emergency protocol that I had set up. But how do you know everything about us?"

The man had been smiling widely as Romulus spoke, and was startled out of his thoughts when he was addressed. "Hm? Oh! As we burrowed further and further into the U-Wing, we came across much of your research; coupled with the dreams many of us received, it explained much of what we were suddenly encountering."

"Dreams?" Luke asked, remembering what Clover had told him of Morpheus's whereabouts.

The man nodded. "Yes, dreams, from Morpheus. He's been in contact with us, told us how we might consume the ambrosia without injuring ourselves, and," he paused for effect, "he's told us of your plight."

"Then will you help us?" Luke's voice revealed more of his desperation than he would have preferred.

"Yes," the man said, "we will. We can get you to the Rebellion and get you the whereabouts of your sister, but we need help in turn."

"What do you need?" Romulus returned, hope bursting forth in his eyes.

"If you can get us off of this planet- all of us- we can get you your U-Wing and your sister," he looked to Luke.

Nearly laughing with anticipation, Luke reached out his hand. "It's a deal," he said, and the man grinned wildly as the two shook hands.


	22. Twenty One

When the U-wing pulled out of hyperspace, they were suddenly thrown into one of the worst storms Rowan had ever experienced. With a violent jolt, they sunk heavily through the clouds, and Cassian cried out in alarm as Rowan grabbed hold of a stumbling Bohdi just arrived in the cockpit and the back of Cassian's chair. The inexplicable sorrow she had expressed after disappearing deep into Jedha City had turned inevitably to her usual daring and reckless attitude when presented with this fast-paced danger.

As the world about them, dim, cold, and rainy, flashed past the speeding ship, Cassian navigated with skill brought upon by fear. One wrong move, and they would be sent hurtling into one of the many rock formations twisting high into the sky like some ominous giant from another world, shadowy and vague in the sleeting rain, but no less threatening.

About Rowan, chaos ensued. One glance behind revealed Chirrut huddled in the corner, repeating the comforting phrase he resorted to in all risky situations; Baze standing tall, having grabbed hold of one of the toughened leather loops hanging from the ceiling, glaring out at the canyons of Eadu as if he could destroy all those rocky edifices with one glance from his fiery eyes; and Jyn struggling to stay balanced upon her seat, lost in rumination that was likely focused on her father.

K-2's voice broke through Rowan's observations. "20 degrees to the right. 10 degrees up." The droid didn't shout, but the hasty firmness of his usually casual and sarcastic tone brought her back to the present. In response, Cassian quickly jerked the ship to the necessary position, and Bohdi fell into Rowan once more. Grunting, she pushed him back to the center, between K-2 and Cassian.

"No, no, no, lower! Lower!" Bohdi roared, pulling at Cassian's seat as if it would persuade him more.

Irritated, K-2 glanced at the pilot. "Are you sure this is the way?"

"Th- They have landing trackers. They have patrol squadrons. You've got to stay in the canyon. Keep it low!" Bohdi begged, and Cassian met the pilot's eyes for a moment of shared trust.

"Watch your right!" Rowan suddenly shouted, bracing herself against the wall as she noted the rock wall suddenly emerging from the fog of rain and mist, the rock wall they were headed straight for.

Cassian jerked the steering to the left, and Rowan toppled into Bohdi, sending them both to the ground in a pile. Groaning in pain, they extricated themselves from one another and pushed each other back to their feet as K-2 announced, with the same urgency, "There's a 26% chance of failure."

"How much farther?" Cassian roared over the next clap of thunder, and the ship rocked dangerously.

"I don't know... I'm not sure, I never really come this way, but we're close, we're close. I know that." Bohdi grunted as he pulled himself back upon his shifting feet and gripped hold of the backs of K-2 and Cassian's chairs.

"Well, now there's a 35% chance of failure," K-2 spat sarcastically.

"I don't want to know, thank you," Bohdi shot back, terror spurning him to anger.

"I understand," K responded, appeased.

Bohdi wasn't listening. "_Now_!" His roar caused Rowan to start in surprise. "Put it down now!"

"The wind...," K-2 warned, but Bohdi was having none of it.

"If- if you keep going, you'll be right over the shuttle depot," he explained, his eyes wild with fear and hope.

Rowan broke into the conversation then, yelling out another warning, but too late. The four in the cockpit heard the fatal grinding and crash of the U-Wing's engine smashing into one of the rocky walls of the canyon, and the ship lurched forward, slowly careening toward the unseen earth below as it lost its momentum.

"Hold on tight!" Cassian roared to the back as Rowan grabbed hold of Bohdi and the back of Cassian's chair, lowering herself on tense muscles to a crouched position. "We're going down hard!"

It was then the crash happened. Through the windshield of the U-Wing, Rowan watched the earth rise angrily to meet them, a deep black shadow of rock and moss and rain combined. She winced involuntarily when they landed, the nose bouncing along the ground and once more sending Bohdi tumbling into her, before they were sliding forward, the belly of the ship grinding against the unforgiving rock and sending up sparks like fireworks in the dead of night.

The inhabitants didn't move when the ship stilled its violent crawl; even Cassian remained frozen in place, unwilling to move, barely breathing. Rowan and Bohdi froze in their attempts to separate in the fall. Behind them, the others stared with wide eyes out the door's window, all waiting for what they did not know, all frozen in either relief or terror, they knew not what.

It seemed an eternity until the emergency lights flickered on in the ship, illuminating the darkened interior with a warm red light. And still, the group simply breathed. In the cockpit, Cassian worked himself into a position to stand, and did, his face seeming even more careworn than it had been before. From her huddle with Bohdi on the floor, Rowan met his eyes and nodded. The time for hesitation was spent. With a groan and many protesting limbs, Rowan helped Bohdi and herself to their feet, following Cassian into the belly of the ship.

The noise of the outside world slowly became apparent to their shocked senses, the pouring rain a wild drumbeat against the ship, the gusting winds dangerously rocking it with each particularly strong force. Rowan looked about herself at the others and saw that they, too, were hesitant.

Cassian's eyes were tired as he shifted through a cupboard beside him in the hall, finally finding a large raincoat lined with fur. He slipped into it as he spoke to Bohdi, his voice still shakily silent.

"Do you think you can run diagnostics?"

Bohdi's "yes" was mumbled, unintelligible, as he moved on uneasy legs to the cockpit and slid in beside K-2, who had turned to watch the proceedings. Cassian pulled goggles from the same cupboard, along with a flashlight.

"I'm gonna go check the engine, see if we can save it," he told Rowan, who was gazing distractedly out the window at the canyon in which they had landed, as if amazed she had lived to see it. His voice broke her from her reverie, and she turned to him, nodding, and muttering an "okay" with a cracked throat.

She moved forward as he moved to the door, slid it open, and leapt out into the cold and rainy night of Eadu. The rocks crunched beneath him, and she caught only a glimpse of him before he had slammed the door closed once more and disappeared into the dark. The quiet of the ship was deadly, broken only by the muttered conversations of K-2 and Bohdi in the cockpit. Rowan chose instead to examine the emergency stores at the back of the ship, assuring both herself and the others there that they would be able to survive, even if they had lost communication with the outside world.

It was some time, measured by the stillness of the ship and the pounding of the rain, before Cassian returned, shaking the rain out of his hair and moving with controlled anger to the weapons stores at the side of the ship. From the hall to the cockpit, Bohdi watched his entrance with curiosity, and flinched when the door slammed closed. Rowan met his eyes, and read there that the time had come. The moment lasted a second, and then Cassian had looked to Bohdi.

"Bohdi, where's the lab?" His voice was urgent, forceful.

"The research facility?" Bohdi clarified, looking up from his work in the hall and adjusting the headset over his ears to better hear Cassian.

"Yeah," Cassian returned, jerking a blaster from its storage on the wall, "where is it?"

"It's just over the ridge," Bohdi answered, moving forward as Rowan began to adjust her own weapons, following the lead of Cassian's eyes. Wordlessly, they'd decided that she would come, too. She had to.

"And that's a shuttle depot straight ahead of us?" Cassian looked up from his adjustment of the blaster. "You are sure of that?"

Confidently, Bohdi answered, "Yes. We'll have to hope there's still an Imperial ship left to steal."

Wordlessly, Cassian nodded to him, and then took in the rest of the group, the hodgepodge of participants that had been suddenly dragged along upon this journey. As he finished switching the blasters settings into what Rowan now recognized as a sniper configuration, he spoke. "Here's what we're doing. Hopefully, the storm keeps up and keeps us hidden down here. Bohdi and Rowan," he gestured to them respectively, "you're coming with me. We'll go up the ridge and check it out."

He turned to leave, followed by a silent Rowan and a baffled Bohdi, but was interrupted by the one person neither Rowan nor Cassian wanted to speak.

"I'm coming with you," Jyn interjected, stepping forward from her corner with a desperate expression on her face.

Rowan refused to turn, only glancing at Cassian's expression as he turned. Restrained irritation lurked in his eyes.

"No, your father's message, we can't risk it. You're the messenger." He scrambled for an answer that would appease her. Both Rowan and Cassian knew it wouldn't suffice.

"That's ridiculous," Jyn protested, and only now did Rowan look back. "We all got the message. Everyone here knows it."

"One blast to the reactor module and the whole system goes down," K commented, as if proud of himself. "That's how you said it: 'the whole system goes down'."

Cassian's frustration boiled over. "Get to work fixing our comms!" He roared at K, and then paused as the shocked ship watched him. Rowan's eyes had fallen once more to the floor. Repentant, Cassian breathed and spoke with a restrained calm. "All I want to do right now is get a handle on what we're up against. So, we're gonna go very small and very carefully up the rise and see what's what. Let's get out of here," he said finally, glancing at Rowan.

With a shrug, she gestured out the door and indicated she was following. The three filed out, Rowan at the back as Cassian and Bohdi muttered their plan of attack softly beneath their breath. With the wind howling about them and the rain like bullets slamming into their skin, they made their slippery and stumbling way up the ridge. With nothing pressing to focus on, Rowan's mind slipped back into its spiraling repetition of Eros's words in the Holy City. The god had never been one to be charming to her, and this particular occasion had not been any different; his words had been just as scathing, just as much a reminder of her wrongs.

The thrill of adrenaline faded just as quickly as it had come, and Rowan's once agile steps turned to the trudging movements of one weighted down by the world about them. Before her, Cassian and Bohdi moved with caution, alert; she simply followed doggedly, unaware they had stopped until she bumped into Cassian at the top of the ridge.

Startled, he steadied them both, and Rowan swallowed past the pit in her throat to thank him. His hands lingered compassionately on her shoulders as he peered within her eyes, a gentle pity in his. She returned it as best she could, knowing full well the psychological cost this mission would leave upon his conscience.

The two had knelt down between large black rocks jutting from the canyon wall, and Cassian had pulled from his satchel his binoculars, looking through them with all the avid, hasty interest of a man desperate to keep moving. She had no doubt he was.

"You see Erso out there?" His voice was quiet, as if some unseen force urged him to whisper. He handed the binoculars forcefully to Bohdi, who took them in hand and began his own observations. Behind them, Rowan lowered herself to sit upon the rock, cringing a little at the way the chill of the rock seeped through her flesh, into her bones.

Overhead, there was suddenly the roar of incoming engines, and Rowan threw herself to the ground as Cassian pulled Bohdi down and out of sight. As the massive black ship passed above them, Rowan shuddered. Something was on board that ship, something familiar but unnamed. She tensed, the hair on her neck standing on end. Near her, she could see that Cassian had reacted just the same. As they rose to their original crouched positions, she met his eyes, and shared dread hovered between them, before Bohdi broke the silence.

"That's him," he whispered, nudging Cassian to get his attention. Cassian's eyes lingered upon hers for a moment, and then he looked to the pilot, urgency taking over once more as he accepted the offered binoculars and listened to Bohdi's directions. "That's him, Galen, in the dark suit."

It was a moment before Cassian found him, and his shoulders tensed, though his expression was relieved. He turned abruptly to Bohdi.

"Get back down there and find us a ride out of here," he commanded the stunned pilot. Bohdi hesitated and was pushed in the direction they had come by Cassian.

"What are you doing?" His voice seemed betrayed, and Rowan tried to ignore the pang of guilt deep within her gut. But hope ran deeper. She knew Cassian would not go through with his orders; he would be unable to bring himself to, so it was with an assured look that she patted Bohdi on the shoulder and jerked her head down the path.

"You heard me," Cassian told him, and Bohdi met his eyes, anger brimming deep within.

"You said we came up here just to have a look," he protested, and Rowan regretted that he hadn't caught the hint early, for Cassian's torment reeled once more in his expression.

"I'm here," he hissed, "I'm looking! Go. Hurry!"

Bohdi didn't meet Rowan's eyes, didn't see her one last attempt at consolation, before he was stumbling and skidding down the way they'd come. She watched him for a moment, peering through the darkness and the rain for a time until she was sure he had gone. She had a feeling his return would be one of dread to the others down below.

With a sigh, she lowered herself to a rock near Cassian, choosing to watch his expression rather than the illumination in the distance that indicated the landing pad of the research facility. From here, she could only see that there was where the ship containing the unnamed threat had landed.

Cassian's face was intent, his eye pressed against the view-screen of the blaster, his binoculars discarded. His breath was short, his finger trembling over the trigger, the raging inner war revealing itself in his tortured hesitation. The lines within his features were hardened, tight with conflict. Rowan watched, concerned over her friend, the one she had come to know and trust so well over the past few days, the one that had come to suffer so much over the past few days. She could sense the battle he fought, the war against his conscience, the war to preserve his discipline in the face of overwhelming revelations about himself and overwhelming decisions placed firmly in his hands.

It seemed to her that the world held its breath in fright as she watched, and she finally forced her mind to divert itself, taking hold of the discarded binoculars and peering through them to focus in on the landing platform far away. Sure enough, the ship had landed. From it had emerged a man she knew from her former travels as Director Krennic and his posse of Stormtroopers. They faced down a collection of scientists, wincing against the pouring rain, surreally illuminated in their white lab coats by the fluorescent lights of the landing pad. Before them all stood Galen Erso, confidently conversing with the Director.

Beside her, there was suddenly movement and a breath, releasing a profound tension. Rowan looked up from her examination of the platform to see Cassian leaning back against the rock across from her, his head leaned back, his eyes shut tight, his breathing slowing. She shifted down from her position to sit equal with him, watching him closely across the gap. The moment had come.

"You knew I wouldn't do it, didn't you?" His voice suddenly broke through the drumming of the rain as Rowan's eyes fell to the ring upon her finger that she twisted in circles.

Smiling, she raised her eyes to meet his own, watching her kindly, an understanding glimmering there that wasn't there before. She shrugged and responded with a "yeah". Satisfied, Cassian breathed deeper and leaned back once more against the rock, allowing himself one more moment of peace before he straightened and looked upon her again. Confused by the resolution in his actions, Rowan herself shifted, meeting his gaze, her brows knitted in an unspoken question.

"What happened?" His voice was kind, but she feigned puzzlement. "On Jedha," he clarified, "when we got separated. Who did you meet?"

"Eros," Rowan answered, throwing as much relaxed calm into her demeanor as possible, all the while forcing the name past the ball in her throat.

"What did he say?" Cassian made no effort to hide the concern in his countenance.

"Nothing he hasn't said before," Rowan returned, shrugging off the weight she bore. When Cassian's expression requested more elaboration, she gave all she could, saying simply, "Run-ins with love aren't always happy," with a smirk that informed Cassian, not unkindly, that the conversation on the subject ought to be over. Nodding in something of agreement, Cassian let the conversation fade to silence, letting his head fall back against the rock once more as the rain fell in sheets about them.

The moment, quiet and peaceful, was broken violently by Cassian's radio bursting to life.

"Cassian!" K's voice called, and Rowan had never even happier to hear it as she lifted the binoculars and looked through them once more, searching for the figure of Galen Erso once more. "Cassian, can you hear me?"

"I'm here! You got it working!" Cassian exclaimed, nearly laughing with relief before he froze at Rowan's expression. She herself had frozen in terror, her hand suddenly going to her blaster, her eyes wide in alarm as she was confronted with a sight that she should have anticipate but hadn't. K-2's next words sent a spasm of fear running through her.

"Affirmative yes, although we have a problem," K explained. "There's an Alliance squadron approaching."

Rowan cursed and lunged for the radio as Cassian grabbed the falling binoculars. "No! No, K! Tell them to hold on! Jyn's on the platform!"

But too late, for both Rowan and Cassian could hear the incoming fighters soaring high above, soon to launch a barrage of bombs upon the defenseless platform. Calling Jyn a list of names she would only have previously ascribed to Hera, Rowan leapt to her feet, Cassian close behind, and the two made their way, scrambling madly through the rocks and the sludge along the canyon wall, knowing full well that the worst could easily happen before they reached the platform so far away. They could only trust to Jyn's skill to hold out for at least a little longer.

With hearts pounding, they raced against time, slipping and sliding on the rocks slicked by the endless rain that poured about them and marred their vision of the path ahead. Looking to her left at the fight that was soon to ensue, Rowan stumbled, tripping over a particularly jutting rock and losing her balance on the path. Cassian cried out and grabbed hold of her, steadying her shaking limbs against his own. It was then, over the heaved breaths of their exhaustion, that they heard the first Alliance bomb find its place on the landing pad.

The explosion sounded through the night, rocking the earth beneath them. After, they heard the piercing screams of the wounded, and it was this sound that spurned them onward, at a mad pace along the canyon, the distance between them and the research facility growing ever smaller, but far too slowly. Finally, they rounded the curve they had been following and shot forward across the steel platforms, matching their pace as they hurried toward the flashing, flaring lights of alternating red and green as the Rebellion attacked and the Empire resisted.

The roars of the engines, the screams of the wounded, the whistling course of the bombs, their earth-shattering booms as they hit their targets, all formed a cacophony of noise. Dazzled by this and the brilliant lights of bombs and fire that rose up about them as they got closer and closer to the site of destruction caused Rowan and Cassian to slow their pace just a little. Having the element of surprise, their first Stormtrooper was gunned down easily, then the others, till their path was nearly clear.

Leading the way, Rowan took a sharp left at the landing platform, leaping over a pile of dead officers, refusing to look into their faces, forcing herself to keep moving through the chaos surging about her. Stormtroopers radioed back and forth, a confused mixture of alternating commands and last-ditch warnings to the cannons layering the outer face of the facility. Rowan bypassed all this, noticing then that Cassian had not followed her as closely as usual, jogging slowly, methodically behind her, his weapon poised to destroy any and all threats before they came close to either him or Rowan. Satisfied, she returned to searching the platform for Jyn, hoping beyond hope that the woman that had caused her so much trouble was not dead.

"Papa!" Jyn's voice rose suddenly above the sea of noise, and Rowan froze in her tracks, stumbling a little as she looked desperately for the voice's source. "Papa, it's me. It's Jyn..."

She was quieter now, but Rowan had found her, knelt beside a limp figure, sprawled out upon the ground: Galen Erso. The two were near the blast site that had disfigured the steel of the landing platform. The other ship, the one sporting Director Krennic, had long since fled, and the pad was silent aside from the Stormtroopers still roaming disorganized about the place, shocked by the sudden attack, and Jyn's comforts of her father.

Rowan jogged to a stop a few feet away, keeping a respectful distance. She did not need the vision of the bodies littering the area around them, nor the fires blazing maliciously but restrainedly in their flesh, to know that Galen Erso was dying. She could feel his spirit leaving his flesh, and she knew that soon he would be at peace. She could only hope that her father would give him a place befitting his assistance to the Rebellion, unsung as it was.

Cassian arrived then, moving to retrieve Jyn, but Rowan held out a cautioning arm, her eyes growing sorrowful as she remembered the many families she had seen separated by death during the wars she had fought. The thought of her own father alone was enough to bring back the lump of tears lodged in her throat.

When Cassian shot her a confused look, she shrugged and said simply, "he's dying."

To this, Cassian nodded, and the two did their best to focus their attention on anything but the words spoken between the father and daughter, choosing instead to look about themselves and analyze their best route to the ship. Likely, it would be the way they had come, though Rowan didn't look forward to slipping and sliding for nearly half a mile.

"Over there! Take them down!" The words broke like a gunshot through their reverie, and Rowan knew that Galen's time was up, his life had receded, and they would need to make a quick getaway if they wanted to survive.

With well-trained reflexes, Cassian leveled his blaster at the incoming Stormtroopers and fired in rapid succession, killing them both in a moment. Rowan was already on the move, leaping over bodies and ducking beneath the blasts of other Stormtroopers alerted to their presence as she hurried toward Jyn, begging for her father's life.

"Come on!" Rowan roared over the miniature explosions as the bullets hit the railings beside her. "We've gotta go, Jyn! Come on!"

She threw herself the last few feet and grabbed hold of Jyn's shoulders, shaking her to face the present reality. The woman looked up angrily to Rowan, ravaging grief marring her features.

"I can't leave him!" Jyn forced out the words, her eyes fiery. Rowan tugged harder, throwing her weight backward and forcing Jyn to her feet. Still, the woman resisted, and Rowan wrapped her arms about her torso, heaving her backward and forcing her to keep moving away from the body of her father. "I can't leave him!" At her scream, Rowan flinched and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet her eyes.

"Listen!" Rowan forced through her teeth. "He's gone; he died an honorable death, but he's gone. And we'll be with him soon if you don't keep moving."

With a roar of anger, Jyn spun on her heels, following the figure of Cassian retreating backward from the landing platform, his blaster firing rapidly upon the approaching Stormtroopers. Rowan ducked beneath a blast and lunged after Cassian, whipping out her own blaster and joining him as they backpedaled down the path they had come. The Stormtroopers clumsily followed, but their numbers were few and their senses disoriented; Cassian and Rowan slipped away easily, leading Jyn the way they had come.

No one spoke on the journey back. Rowan's shoulder still twinged from the effort she had thrown into extracting Jyn, and her heart still raced from the fight. She kept her eyes fixed upon the ground, choosing to focus herself upon getting to the ship rather than the undertone of anger coursing through her veins. For a side mission as she searched for Luke, this was far too involved, and the weight of his dagger in her boot, ever present, seemed simply a guilty reminder of how she had failed him.

Trudging before her was Jyn, looking sullenly at the ground, despair and grief rending her heart in two as she imagined life without the hope of her father and raged against Cassian and Rowan's obvious guilt. She pulled her coat tighter about her soaked body and tensed her muscles, forcing herself to breathe until they reached the ship.

And leading them all, Cassian fought against his premonitions of the future, his anger with the past, his frustration with the present. Yes, he had chosen to spare Erso's life, but for what? The man was still dead, the blood still on his hands. His steps suddenly acquired a stomping tone as he fought back against the despair threatening to overwhelm him and the shame that burned like a coal deep within his chest.

It was a relief to all three to see the transport ship Bohdi had stolen fifty yards ahead as they came over the ridge, its lights a brilliant white against the dark they had grown so accustomed to since their landing here. Involuntarily, Cassian sped up as they reached it, ignoring the mud that splattered about his boots as he jogged through the clearing and hefted himself into the warmth of the ship's belly. Behind him followed Jyn, and then a soggy Rowan, who exhaustedly pulled herself into the light and groaned at the lack of food cupboards in the new ship.

"Okay, K-2, let's go!" Cassian called up the ladder to the cockpit when the door had slammed shut. Rowan looked about to count heads as the ship rose shakily from the ground and Cassian began to extricate himself from his rain gear. Baze lounged on the slanted wing of the cargo bay doors, Chirrut was poised regally upon one of the two benches in the center of the ship, gripping his staff firmly, and she could only assume K-2 and Bohdi were in the cockpit above them. Her eyes then landed upon Jyn, glaring murderously upon Cassian. Rowan tensed, her hand falling to her blaster.

Unknowing, Cassian went about his business, removing his heavy jacket and slipping it into the uniform hamper stretched across the wall opposite to the door. "Ion thrusters low until we've cleared the storm," he called to K as he finished his storage of the jacket and moved to slip on his pilot's gear. Still, Jyn seethed behind him. Rowan held her breath.

"Understood," came K's faint reply.

"You lied to me." Jyn's voice suddenly broke through the deadly quiet of the ship.

Startled but unsurprised at her statement, Cassian looked up, adjusting his blaster. "You're in shock," he told her.

Jyn took a step forward, her fists clenched. "You went up there to kill my father."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said, unwilling to meet her eyes, turning back to extricate his pilot's jacket from the hamper.

"Deny it," she hissed.

"You're in shock," Cassian returned, his voice stern, "and looking for someplace to put it. I've seen it before."

"I bet you have." She threw the statement like a dagger. Rowan winced and frowned irritatedly. "_They_ know!" Jyn gestured to the others in the ship. "You lied about why we came here, and you lied about why you went up with her." Here, Jyn shot Rowan a nasty look, and Rowan resisted the urge to fire something back at her, knowing full well it was the grief behind her words.

Cassian's patience broke; in an abrupt movement, he stepped forward, forcing her to meet his gaze as his lip curled in anger and disgust. "I had every chance to pull the trigger. But did I?" His voice was deadly calm, before he turned on the others in the ship. "_Did I?_" It was a demand that caused all but Chirrut to look to the floor.

Cassian moved to the ladder, but was interrupted by Jyn's hurled accusations. "You might as well have," she snarled. "My father was living proof, and you put him at risk. Those were Alliance bombs that killed him!"

Cassian whirled about, roaring. "I had orders! Orders that _I_ disobeyed!" He forced himself to calm. "But you wouldn't understand that."

Jyn seemed taken aback. "Orders? When you know they're wrong?" She took a backpedaling step and mocked triumphantly, "You might as well be a Stormtrooper."

Cassian smirked, his eyes seething. "What do you know?" Again, he forced her eye contact, taking another step forward. Rowan watched closely, her eyes knit together in concern. "We don't all have the luxury of deciding when and where we want to care about something," he told her. "Suddenly the Rebellion is real for you. Some of us live it. I've been in this fight since I was _six years old_," he hissed. "You're not the only one whose lost everything. Some of us just decided to do something about it."

As Cassian moved away, headed with finality for the ladder, Jyn fired her only words left. "You can't talk your way around this!"

Cassian looked up, but didn't meet her eyes, focusing instead on Rowan's as she remained barely in the threshold of the door, watching the proceedings closely. He jerked his head to the ladder, indicating his need for her assistance, and she moved through the others toward him before he finally addressed Jyn's statement.

"I don't have to," he said simply, and started up the ladder. The silence behind him was still uneasy, the monster of Jyn's anger still not yet appeased as he called to K in the cockpit. "Yavin 4! Make sure they know we're coming in with a stolen ship," he instructed, before looking back down to the others. "_Anybody else?_" he demanded.

The silence lost its tension as Baze muttered a "nope" and leant back against the wall, closing his eyes and resting. Rowan followed Cassian into the cockpit where K-2 and a disoriented Bohdi waited.

"We're on the way," K said in greeting, and Rowan nodded to Bohdi. The pilot still seemed unsettled, but he'd heard the conversation below and chosen to pacify his hurts. He greeted her with a small smile, and she moved to the corner, relishing in the seat that had been placed there. She watched Cassian slip into his own seat, replacing Bohdi, and remembered all that had happened during their wait on Eadu, and regretted that others could not see the man he truly was. Exhaustedly, she shoved the weighty thoughts aside and leant up against the wall of the cockpit, letting her eyes slide closed.

"You know," she muttered with a smile, "I never did get that day off."

With Cassian's suppressed chuckle, her gin widened, she relaxed into the corner, and fell quickly into a dreamless sleep.


	23. Twenty Two

Throughout the majority of the next day, Luke began to understand truly the extent to which Jakku was an _uncomfortable_ planet. After his years on Coruscant, he'd grown accustomed to the shaded, if stifling, streets. On Jakku, the little reprieve from the sun was found in either the hastily constructed tent of the rebels or the shadows cast by the upturned stalls, planted firmly into the sands by the explosions that had recently rocked the planet.

Exhausted, sweat running in rivulets from his brow and coating his limbs in a film, Luke reclined against one of these stalls, his legs stretched out before him upon a blanket leant to him by Gideon, the rebel that had been so knowledgeable of Luke and his people. Before him, the remains of the village were awash in activity as the rebels did their best to temporarily construct shelter for the survivors of the great massacre they had just witnessed. Romulus and Clover were nowhere to be seen, their figures lost in the shadowy haze of the desert as they trekked through the sands, led by Gideon's and Romulus' memories to the U-Wing. In an unspoken agreement, they'd decided to let Luke rest here, for the effects of the manticore's poison had not quite fully diminished, still sapping the strength from his limbs, though now he began to wonder whether or not it might be the heat instead that caused this great weakness. His eyes slipped closed, and despite his half-hearted attempts to remain aware, he succumbed to the exhaustion permeating him, and began to doze.

He was woken by a sudden stir of movement about him in the camp, and his eyes slid open to see a rebel soldier moving toward him beneath the sky, somewhat darker than when he had last seen it. Hours could have passed since he had fallen into his slumber, and he cursed himself for his inattentiveness.

"Sir," called the soldier, and Luke straightened, struggling to his feet. The man reached him just as he stumbled, and steadied him. Luke found himself assaulted with the smell of blood and sweat, as he shifted his weight slowly away from him.

"They've returned," the man told him, gesturing to the horizon.

Momentarily confused, Luke followed the man's finger till his eyes landed on a shape moving steadily toward them in the sky. Romulus had found the ship. A cry of relief went up among the surviving citizens of Jakku, and Luke smiled gently. Thanking the man, he rested his hand upon the hilt of Backbiter and limped forward through the sands, eyes fixed brightly on the approaching ship. As it drew closer, Luke moved forward toward the open sand they had designated for it to land.

With loud hisses, the ship began to gently lower itself into the sand, and Luke shielded his face as it was whipped up by the force of the engines and began to sting and tear at Luke's clothes and skin. About him, those that had joined him did the same. His smile grew brighter when the wind died down, and he pulled away his arm to let his eyes feast joyfully upon the image of their freedom. The U-Wing was shabby- reliable, but shabby, marked by its owner's exploits. Luke grinned in anticipation.

As the ramp disengaged from the ship and lowered into the sand, Luke limped forward and waved, relieved, at the emerging satyr. Clover's eyes brightened, and a smile split his face. Behind him emerged Romulus, followed by Gideon, whose emaciated face seemed to have regained some form of health as hope suffused him. Quickly he moved past Romulus and Clover, hurrying to his men and the survivors, already passing out instructions to his commanding officers. Luke followed him with his eyes for a moment, before closing the distance between himself and the ship.

Romulus nodded his greeting, then gestured to Luke's side and limp. "Are you healing well?"

Luke shrugged. "Well as I can," he assured Romulus, before gesturing in his own turn to the ship. "Is there much space?"

Romulus' face fell. "Not as much as I'd hoped," he admitted, "but enough."

Luke breathed a sigh of relief. He had a feeling the citizens of Jakku would not appreciate the news that they would not escape the remains of their home. There was a vicious desperation in each and all their eyes as they clustered together on the edge of the camp, a mass of families glancing distrustfully out at the rebels. The few that trusted the soldiers were a minority, and their efforts to help the rebel soldiers did not seem to sway much the opinions of their fellows.

As he contemplated the group, Gideon returned to them, smiling brilliantly despite the evident exhaustion the trip had brought him.

"We'll be ready to go soon," he informed the group, and then addressed Romulus. "We've organized the survivors into groups of ten or so, and have officers volunteering to stay behind and await another ship. They have enough supplies to last them a week."

Romulus nodded, and Luke could not help but notice the look of urgency that now seemed to permeate his expression. "Good; we should leave as soon as possible." He looked to Luke, "I fear for your sister."

Luke's gut sunk quickly, and he nodded. "So do I."

He turned back and faced the now moving mass of survivors, watched as they were sent forth in small groups, led by the officers of the rebellion through the whipping desert winds and sand. He stepped back beside Clover as Romulus disappeared into the ship, and together they watched the men and women and children shuffle, sharp-eyed, into the belly of the ship. They moved slowly, cautiously, and despite the urgency Romulus had instilled in him, Luke could not help but take pity on the people before him.

Suddenly, he found himself being shaken to awareness by Clover, who had grabbed hold of his shoulder. Looking up, alarm spasming across his face, Luke followed the satyr's eyes to an approaching ship on the horizon. Fear filled him; his heart seemed to jumpstart, and he straightened.

"Tell Romulus," his voice was urgent as he nudged Clover in that direction. The satyr wasted no time and hurried into the belly of the ship, slipping between the citizens of Jakku, apologizing profusely for the toes he stepped on in his hurry.

With his eyes still fixed on the ship, Luke jogged toward Gideon, who had now caught sight of it, too, and was watching it with dread.

"Is it Empire?" Luke shouted over the muttering crowds.

Gideon turned to face him as he slowed to a walk, hand gripping firmly the hilt at his side. "I don't know," he returned. "It's flying low, and it's small." He paused, musing. "They wouldn't send out a TIE on its own, and our radar can't detect it," he gestured to two or three men gathered about a small table.

Luke paused, confused. "Is it friendly?" It seemed impossible. According to Gideon, these rebels had been abandoned here for months. It was highly unlikely that the rebellion would rescue them now that there had been conflict. They wouldn't have known of it. Uneasiness seeped into his veins, and with a renewed energy, he jogged back toward the survivors.

"Hurry them in," he advised the first officer he came across, who promptly began to usher the survivors into the ship, hurrying them forward. A great rumbling rose from the ship; the engines had started, and the survivors began to move quickly of their own accord, understanding finally reaching their eyes.

Luke glanced back to Gideon and his officers. They were drawing blasters, readying them against whatever new threat might present itself. Of the same mind, Luke drew Backbiter and dug his heels into the sand, feeling the anticipation in his muscles as they quivered to readiness.

The incoming ship was now somewhat recognizable against the still dazzling, though setting, sun. It was a small U-Wing. Luke recognized it as one to be seen frequently on the landing pads of Coruscant, generally owned by wealthy citizens that occupied the more airy penthouses high in the sky, where the sun might reach them. Suddenly, Gideon was at Luke's side, and he jumped a little, his rising adrenaline reacting to the abrupt appearance of the rebel.

"That's not Empire," Gideon told him, his voice involuntarily low. "It seems independent."

"But is it friendly?" Luke mused, and Gideon shrugged his shoulders.

"Whoever it is, they're here for us," and he walked back to his officers, his blaster by his side, but his grip not relaxed.

Indeed, the ship began to sink through the air toward a free clearing adjacent to Romulus' U-Wing. Sand swirled about the belly of the ship, and the rebels found themselves buffeted by the winds. Against his wishes, Luke was forced to shield his eyes, though he strained to see who emerged from the depths of the ship. As the world stilled and Luke lowered his arm, the rest of the survivors hurried into the U-Wing and Romulus raised the gangplank, cautious against optimism. Silence fell like a deadweight, and Luke shifted his stance, tightening his grip on Backbiter.

Hissing erupted from the unfamiliar ship, and the rebel soldiers tensed as its gangplank lowered, agonizingly slow, into the sand. Steam enveloped the dimly lit opening, and footsteps suddenly echoed out from within. Luke took a step forward, peering into the darkness.

The steam seemed to coalesce into a figure, tall, robed in black, with shock white hair that crowed his head. As if slowed by confusion, it took several moments before Luke could recognize this new figure, and when he did, joy erupted in his soul, and he laughed loudly, sheathing his blade.

"Morpheus!" he cried in greeting, moving forward, relieved deeper than he though possible.

The god's laugh boomed across the sand. "Castellan! Wonderful to see you under such different circumstances!"

Luke smiled, recalling that the last time him and the god had met had been in the Hermes cabin of Camp Half-Blood as he lay, dying, barely kept alive by Rowan and the efforts of his father. The two met in the clearing, embracing with all the enthusiasm of long lost friends. There was a ringing laugh from their left, and they were suddenly bombarded by Clover, who threw himself into the hug, calling out his own greeting to Morpheus.

It was some time before they pulled apart, and beheld each other in the light of the fading sun. Morpheus' eyes were tired, older than they had been even in the days after the war, awaiting his sentence, and concern shot through Luke like a knife. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the familiar low voice of Romulus, approaching from the ship. One glance informed Luke that Gideon had been left in charge.

"Morpheus," Romulus nodded, "Nice to see you again."

A smirk flashed across Morpheus' face before he turned to Luke. "I see you've met an old friend of mine."

Luke smiled, forcing down, at least for the moment, his anxiety, but Morpheus was no fool, and his features softened in gentle compassion.

"You wish for news on your sister."

Luke nodded. "Have you heard from her?"

Morpheus' smile lost a little of its luster; his eyes darkened. "I have," he answered, and the graveness of his tone caused Luke's stomach to bottom out in dread. "She was on Coruscant a few days ago. She'd had a run-in with a manticore and was wounded in the process."

Luke smirked. "We met the same one," he told Morpheus, who nodded, as if unsurprised, and continued with his tale.

"She had a companion with her, one whose involvement in our lives may grow to be more than we expected," he paused, breathing deeply as he turned to face Romulus. Their eyes met, and a current of understanding ran between them as a pale fear suffused Romulus' features.

"Who was it?" Clover asked; Luke glanced over to see his friend's leg twitching, kicking up small plumes of sand.

"The son of Kronos."

Silence fell like a deadweight over the four. Luke's heart quickened, his eyes darkened, and he struggled hard against the memories that threatened to burst forth. He balled his fists, digging his fingernails into the tender flesh of his palms in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the pain lurking within.

"Come with us," he told Morpheus, and the god's eyes met his in a silent agreement, before he turned back to Romulus.

"We must make haste. I fear something will soon happen that will endanger us all. We must reach the Rebellion as soon as possible."

\- - -

The sea breeze tore across Fernandina Beach, whipping through Percy's black hair with a vengeance as he kept one eye fixed on the horizon, where Typhon's approaching form edged ever closer, and the other upon the proceedings to his left beneath the pier that shot out a hundred or so yards above the ocean. Festus lay there, sheltered as much as possible from the wind, and surrounded by demigods, each bearing small vials of a sickly green vapor. Nearby squatted a pile of crates, loaded high with the stuff, and beyond could be seen the occasional demigod scurrying out from the entrance of their headquarters, bearing a similar crate to the pile. This would be Festus' last flight. They awaited only the arrival of Calypso to bid Leo farewell, and a shorter distance between Typhon and their decided point of assault, in the hopes that the blast would not only fatally wound Ouranus, but also the monster.

No amount of convincing from Percy had been able to sway Leo in his decision, and the pang of regret, of guilt, still burned deep within Percy. Eyes stinging as he struggled against the hot tears buried there, he turned his gaze fully to the ocean, trying hard to avoid the sight of Typhon, a shadow in his periphery, growing ever closer.

Poseidon, his father, had been gone too long. Surely it could not take months to convince Pontus of the necessity of defeating Ouranus. Of course, his father had had to _find_ Pontus first, and that was not an easy task. Percy longed to be with him, traversing the oceans, at home beneath the waves. But his duty was here, with his friends and family, and he could not tear himself from that.

He wished Annabeth was with him. If he closed his eyes, he could lose himself in the memory of her: her steely grey eyes that shone like stars when she laughed, her loose and flowing blonde hair that danced in the summer breeze, her smile that dazzled him each time it split wide her face and let forth the ringing music of her voice.

He stumbled out of his reverie when a voice broke through the image. He turned and nearly fell, his feet cold and clumsy in the sand. Leo, the voice, caught him as he watched the ground come closer, and he breathlessly thanked his friend. Leo grunted his acknowledgement before his eyes caught hold of Typhon.

"He's getting closer," he muttered, a bitter sorrow to his voice.

Percy nodded, turning to face the monster alongside his friend. "That he is."

They stood in silence for a while, side by side, the crashing waves and roaring winds echoing in their ears as they shivered. They both seemed to have aged decades in the past couple days, their eyes losing luster with each passing minute, their features, already careworn, carved even more by each hours' anxieties. They could not help but feel they were sitting ducks, waiting simply to be shot. They had no more allies unless Poseidon could convince Pontus to join them, but even that seemed more and more unlikely with each day.

Despair settled into their hearts, and for a moment, they gave up the fight, letting it rest there, until Leo cleared his throat against the tears that formed there.

"I just spoke to Calypso," he said.

Percy shook himself to awareness. "What'd she say?" He kept his voice soft.

"She's a day away. She'll be here this time tomorrow."

The words faded into the wind. Leo could not bring himself to acknowledge what it meant. Percy couldn't either, as if to think of it would be to plunge himself into a pit he would never escape. His veins itched, and his eyes burned, and he fixed them with a raging intensity upon Typhon, the violence of his anger and pain bringing only even more hopelessness into his heart.

Leo noticed; sorrow slipped into his features. "You know I have to do this, don't you?"

Percy chose not to respond, eyes hardening.

Compassion filled Leo. "It's our only option against Ouranus. We have no other choice. As far as we know, Jason is-," here he paused, swallowing hard and letting his eyes fall to the sand. "We have no communication with our forces there, and they don't appear to be winning. I have to do this."

At Jason's name, Percy's harsh expression faltered and fell. He too felt the grief they all shared, and his heart hurt for Piper and the pain she suffered.

He breathed heavily, and looked to Leo. "I know," he told him, "I know. But I don't like it."

Leo nodded, and gave a half-hearted laugh. "Neither do I."

Together they looked back to the horizon, estimating Typhon's distance. They had a day, Percy realized. Deep-set, churning panic roiled deep within him. Tomorrow would determine all. They turned back to headquarters and began their trek through the sands to update Reyna on their situation. As the wind buffeted their backs and carried them inward, Leo gave a small, broken chuckle.

"Hey," he elbowed Percy jocularly, "Maybe tomorrow'll bring a miracle."


	24. Twenty Three

Jyn and Bohdi disappeared into the crowd that hurried and pushed and shoved to win a spot in the small room where the council had chosen to hold their meeting. Mon Mothma's only acknowledgment to Cassian and Rowan had been a small and grateful nod before she, too, was lost in the bustling mess, though Rowan did not fail to notice that the bustling-ness of the crowd seemed to lessen a little at her arrival.

The rest of the trip to Yavin had been tense and quiet; Cassian had spoken only a few words even to Rowan as he wrestled with some frustration burning beneath his skin. The effects had not worn off; Rowan noticed the exhaustion in his eyes had deepened, and her heart went out to him.

"They're not gonna fight," Cassian muttered beneath his breath. The words floated down to her ear, and she nodded.

She'd slid down against the wall, stretching her legs out before her, forcing her body to relax at least a little before its next exertion. Beside her, Cassian stood, arms crossed, his body tight though he tried to play it off as if he were reclining against the cold metal.

"They won't wanna risk it," he elaborated, and she nodded again, though she knew he couldn't see her.

She waited a moment before speaking, giving him time to muse even further. "What are we gonna do?" There was a dare deep within her voice, an adrenaline-fired excitement that alerted him to her intentions. They would fight, he knew, with or without the approval of the council.

Suddenly, he shot straight up, standing still and tall, quivering with an idea. Rowan moved to stand with him. To their left, lounging on a set of crates, Baze looked to them. Chirrut's blind eyes simply stared straight forward, but she knew not to doubt that he was aware of the proceedings about him. She'd made that resolution to herself.

Cassian's voice halted her in her attempts to join him. "Stay there," he told her, "I'll be back."

And, before she could protest, he had disappeared into the dense activity of the landing, moving at a jog through the crowds, his vigor returned at his revelation. Rowan paused, shrugged to suppress her own excitement, and finished standing, moving over to Baze and Chirrut with a strange smile on her features, a curious expression of anticipation, doubt, and hope.

Baze watched her approach, smiling his greeting, though his eyes were tired. "We're going alone aren't we?" he asked, seeming content with the developments, "Without the rebellion."

"I get the feeling that's what Cassian's planning," Rowan answered.

Baze nodded, turning back to survey the busy world about them. He paused for a moment, musing over what Rowan had said, and then grinned. "Good," was his only comment, and Rowan wholeheartedly agreed.

They waited in silence for the return of either Cassian or Jyn and Bohdi, Rowan pacing back and forth before Baze and Chirrut, listening with an evident, but not unhappy agitation to Chirrut's mutterings. She mused on all that had happened in the past few days, how her quest to find Luke had become cluttered with so many more complications. Not that she would use such a derogative term to describe her newfound friendship, if she had the liberty to call it that, with Cassian. She wasn't sure what term she could use, for indeed, it was a complication, but she found it was so much more than that, and she suddenly could not imagine her life moving forward without his presence involved somehow. Brow furrowed, she shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the future, to the battle she was sure to be headed into.

As far as she knew, the planet Scarif was inhabited solely by Empire personnel. The citadel tower was supposedly the only man-made structure on the surface despite the planet's beauty. If such a place had existed on earth, she had no doubt it would easily find itself a tourist attraction. Somehow, with their resources, which she anticipated would be minimal, they would have to infiltrate the building in some form of disguise, and she already began to dread finding herself back in the sweaty cocoon of a Stormtrooper's uniform.

"He's back," Baze suddenly stated, his voice unsurprised.

So engrossed in her musings, it took her a moment to realize what he meant, but when she raised her eyes from their fixed gaze at the ground, she saw that Cassian had returned, this time followed by K and a large group of ragged rebels, each with the same tired, haunted look that Cassian himself bore. She raised an eyebrow, cocking her head in confusion as she met him a short distance from both Baze and Cassian's rebels.

"Where'd you get them?" she asked, gesturing to the men, who were now mingling together, speaking in low voices.

"They're men like me," Cassian returned, taking a short but fond glance back at them. Rowan's eyes begged elaboration when he met them again, and he gave a small smile. "Assassins, traitors, saboteurs," he explained, a restrained tremor in his voice. "This is our chance to get something right before we die."

Rowan's eyebrows knit together in compassion, and her voice was low when she spoke, placing a hand on Cassian's arm and meeting his eyes fully. "We're gonna make it out of this alive," she promised, "We have to."

Cassian smiled, but it faltered and fell, and his expression became troubled. "Are you sure you want to come?" he asked.

Rowan's hand fell back to her side. "Of course," she returned, a steady look of determination sparking to life deep within her eyes.

"But if something happens to you, and you can't find Luke…," he trailed off, and she nodded, her defenses lowering.

"I know the risks," she shrugged, "and I know that I could not justify my search if I abandoned my friends in their moment of need."

Cassian smiled and nodded. "That's what I thought you'd say." There was a laugh in his voice, and Rowan grinned, opening her mouth to respond, before she was cut off.

"You don't look happy." It came from her left, and she turned to see that Jyn and Bohdi had returned, both looking flustered and despairing. A fire burned in Jyn's eyes as she responded to Baze, the voice Rowan had heard. She moved closer to the four.

"They prefer to surrender," Jyn answered, obviously struggling against a ball of anger in her throat.

"And you?" Baze pressed.

Chirrut smirked knowingly. "She wants to fight."

"So do I," Bohdi added. Rowan noticed his nervous energy now had a harsher shade. "We all do."

"The Force is strong," Chirrut's words were an attempted encouragement, but Rowan felt the hopelessness radiating from Jyn and Bohdi, and knew they did little good.

"How many do we need?" Rowan asked.

Confused, Jyn looked to her. "What are you talking about?"

Rowan smiled, a reckless energy in her eyes as she turned back to Cassian, who had returned to his men and was now awaiting introduction.

"They were never gonna believe you," he told her, moving forward, back to where Rowan stood.

"I appreciate the support," Jyn returned. Her eyes flickered to life, a profound glow of hope to them. Anticipation itched in her veins.

"But I do," Cassian added, and Rowan saw an apology deep in his eyes. Guilt churned deep within him, and he could not erase the burning idea that Galen Erso's blood was on his hands, and his alone. "I believe you. We'd like to volunteer," he gestured to his fellows. "Some of us…," he paused, looked upon them with a profound expression of sympathy and sorrow, before he revised, "Most of us, we've done terrible things on behalf of the Rebellion. We're spies, saboteurs, assassins." He looked back to Jyn, then glanced to Rowan as he continued, "Everything I did, I did for the Rebellion. And every time I walked away from something I wanted to forget, I told myself it was for a cause I believed in. A cause that was worth it. Without that," he breathed deeply, "we're lost. Everything we've done would have been for nothing. I couldn't face myself if I gave up now. None of us could," he finished, and looked back to the men. They were nodding in return, eyes bright with hope.

Among them, Rowan suddenly noticed Debnoli, BoShek, Melshi, and Garouf, and she gave them a friendly, curiously sad, smile. Debnoli gave a small wave in return, and her smile brightened.

"It wouldn't be comfortable," Bohdi broke in, seeming a little stunned by Cassian's speech, and, she noticed, a little more at home. "It'll be a bit cramped, but we'll all fit. We could go."

Rowan fist-bumped the air, and the small group, clustered together in the midst of the busy landing seemed to collectively exhale. "Now _that's_ what I like to hear," she laughed, and Cassian smiled, feeling the ball in his throat dissipate.

He turned back to the men. "Okay," and his voice deepened as he rattled off commands, "Gear up! Grab anything that's not nailed down! Go, go, go!"

The men scattered about, running to grab what they could and as quickly as possible. Rowan's heart leapt within her, and she grinned wildly at Cassian, eyes brilliant and dancing with energy. He smiled back, though calmer, a little sadder, but no less grateful. She calmed a little as she met his gaze, doing her best to convey her sympathy and support with him.

"Ready?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her efforts to still it.

"Ready." He nodded resolutely.

Jyn advanced toward them, opening her mouth to speak. K cut her off.

"I'll be there for you, Jyn," he told her, before pausing. "Cassian said I had to."

Rowan laughed and patted him on the cold metal hip joint.

"I'm not used to people sticking around when things go bad," Jyn said, her voice amused.

"Welcome home," Cassian returned, smiling.

\- - -

They soon realized how crowded the trip would be. Bohdi, Jyn, and K had hurried to the cockpit while the men, including Baze and Chirrut, flooded the ship below, armed and ready to go, followed by Cassian and Rowan. Just as the two reached the ship, Cassian placed a hand gently on Rowan's elbow, pulling her a little aside. His expression was uneasy, and dread shot through her as she anticipated his words to be on some new and unanticipated obstacle. But they weren't, and her expression softened as he spoke, his voice low.

"Stay-," he hesitated, "Stay safe." He paused and breathed heavily. "Please." He hadn't let go of her arm, now adding pressure to his hold on her bicep, just enough to convince her of his concern.

Rowan smiled gently. "I will, I promise."

Satisfied, he began to move away, but she continued to watch where his face had been, confusion suffusing her features as her heart beat hard. She turned and placed a hand on his arm in turn. He faltered, then turned to her.

"You too," she told him, forcing her heart to calm. "Stay safe." She dared not mention the name of Kronos.

He nodded, and smiled sadly, as if he knew all that had passed behind her eyes, and together, they pulled themselves into the stolen transport ship. Behind them, the door hissed closed, and they blinked rapidly, adjusting themselves to the dim light, given only by bluish strips that lined the floor and the edges of the ceiling. Dead silence, the silence of those marked for death, seemed to suck even the possibility of sound from the tiny, crowded space. Above them, as if from a great distance, they could hear Bohdi's correspondence with the control tower. Bated breath pulled the oxygen from the air, and Rowan hurried up the ladder to the cockpit after Cassian.

Jyn sat huddled in the corner, holding a small kyber crystal attached to a cord about her neck to her lips. Rowan just barely caught the muttered "may the Force be with us" before the flight controller's voice seemed to burst through the speakers.

"Cargo shuttle, read back, please," he crackled. "What's going on out there?" Rowan raised her eyebrows, surprised at the emotion, expecting to hear something akin to the drone of a droid. "That ship's off limits. No one's supposed to be on board until further instructions."

Bohdi fumbled with the mic; sweated beaded on his brow and slipped from beneath his slicked hair. "Yes- yes, we are," he stuttered. "Af-affirmative."

The flight controller sounded unimpressed. "That's an impounded imperial ship! What's your call sign, pilot?"

Bohdi was at a loss. "Um…"

Rowan felt her body shaking with adrenaline. Beside her, Cassian watched the pilot with desperate eyes.

"We have to go," Jyn whispered to him, a stern encouragement on her features.

Bohdi met her eyes, momentarily stunned as he recognized the kindness her father had once shown him. "It's- it's, um…"

Even K-2 seemed to be impatient. Rowan choked on bated breath.

"Say something. Come on," Jyn urged.

A light of inspiration burst to life in Bohdi's eyes, and with renewed confidence, he looked back to the control tower through the windshield, speaking resolutely into the mic. "Rogue," he said, "Rogue One."

"Rogue One?" the flight controller scoffed, "There is no Rogue One!"

But K had already set the ship in motion, saying with that still-surprising shade of humor. "Well, there is now."

Bohdi smiled. "Rogue One, pulling away," he told the flight controller.

"Pulling away," K repeated, pride in his voice. Rowan gave a low chuckle and met Cassian's eyes. Anticipation had brought them to life, and her smile brightened at their shared excitement. She followed Cassian down to the belly of the ship, and together, they armed themselves for the battle to come. She could remember the times before like this, the deep breaths before those awful plunges into warfare and bloodshed, and she forced herself to only hope that this battle would not end in such heartache.

Denying power to those fears, she moved between the men, searching intently for Melshi, Garouf, BoShek, and Debnoli. She found them huddled together on a bench in the corner. They greeted her with smiles and laughter that broke the muttered tones of those about them.

"Nice to see y'all again!" she greeted, forcing happiness into her tone.

They understood full well how she felt, understood that to delve into their fears would be to let them win, and so they matched her lighthearted tone in their own individual greetings. And so they joked and laughed till they had cleared Yavin 4's atmosphere, but as the ship jolted forward, lightspeed engaged, silence took its place among them, and Rowan met Cassian's eyes. In a wordless exchange, they knew each others' minds.

If all fell apart, and the Rebellion did not send reinforcements, this was a suicide mission.

But even so, they would die together.

\- - -

"You are cleared for landing." The voice of the flight controller could not have sighed more in relief as the ship bearing Romulus, Clover, Luke, the rebel survivors, citizens of Jakku, and now Morpheus descended through the hazy atmosphere of Yavin 4 to land in a removed area of the landing pad. Luke paced back and forth in the cockpit, now cracking his knuckles, now balling his fists, nails biting into his palms, now shaking them out, now running his hands through his hair. Seated against the wall, Clover watched his young charge with concerned eyes and furrowed brows. Romulus and Morpheus muttered together opposite of the satyr as Gideon piloted the ship under a strict command to take care of it from Romulus, a command Gideon seemed anxious to obey, as he had caught a small gleam of Romulus' sharp teeth during the conversation. Romulus had walked away, muttering that they may still have need of it, a view that Morpheus seemed to share, if his grave expression was to mean anything.

With painstaking slowness, Luke watched the ground grow closer and closer, frantically urging the ship to hurry in his mind. Rowan had to be down there, he told himself, though he did not trust to hope. She had to be. He could not entertain doubt, not now, not anymore.

Yet his breaths did not come any easier when they finally landed with a gentle bump and the gangplank lowered to the linoleum flooring of the Rebellion's landing pad. Held back by the swarming survivors and confined to the cockpit for a moment longer, Luke's breath began to quicken, growing steadily more shallow. Clover's hand on his shoulder served only to increase his agitation, though he knew the satyr meant no harm, and so he suffered its presence, only hurrying out from beneath it when the last of the citizens of Jakku and rebel soldiers had cleared the ship. It was then that he could breathe, and his eyes emerged into the setting sunlight of Yavin 4 with a fresh hope.

Toward them, through the crowd, moved a woman dressed wholly in white, and Luke froze in confusion, momentarily startled by the enormity of the Rebel base. But his gaze was broken when Gideon jostled him, hurrying past to meet the woman in white.

"Senator!" he called, raising a hand in greeting, his voice filled with awe and a profound homesickness. "Senator Mon Mothma!"

The woman smiled brilliantly and kindly, though something troubled her eyes, and Luke's gut sank. He could not help but think it might have something to do with his sister.

"Lieutenant Gideon," she greeted, "It's good to have you home."

Gideon seemed tearful in his joy as she continued.

"Your men have served well, and we are sorry for what you have suffered, but you are home now, and you may rest." Her expression was grateful, generous, good, and Luke himself seemed somewhat soothed for his new Rebel acquaintances, but the fear for Rowan soon filled him once more.

"Ma'am," he interrupted, knowing full well it was a disrespect, and disregarding that fact. "Ma'am, I'm looking for someone, and I'm told she is here, or has at least passed through." He opened his mouth to continue, but the woman silenced him, speaking.

"Your sister," she nodded, and the same troubled expression that had worried him before returned despite his surprise and confusion. "You have similar features," she elaborated, then paused and let out a heavy breath. "Yes," she continued, "She was here, but no longer. Against the orders of the Alliance, she and others of our officers have decided to infiltrate an Empire citadel. They left just moments ago."

The blood fell from Luke's face, and he stood petrified. With a profound urgency, Romulus stepped forward and spoke, his voice sharp.

"_Where did they go?_"


	25. Twenty Four

As the trip lengthened, Cassian made his way back up to the cockpit, and Rowan had settled in with her old friends, chatting and joking, denying power to the anxiety that churned deep within them. Rowan felt as if a shade had been pulled over her eyes, some veil through which the world seemed foggy and undefined, as her thoughts crept forth and her throat began to tighten. She did her best to swallow past the lump, but it occupied her thoughts, clawing at her attempts to reason through the battle to come. She could finally take it no longer.

Muttering something about wondering how close they were to their destination, she excused herself from the group with a friendly "see you later", and she hurried up the ladder to the cockpit. The hum of the engine brought a haze of anticipation to the small space, seemingly enlarged by the wide and clear windows that reflected the great magnitude of space. Cassian turned at her entrance, and she smiled quickly in greeting. He nodded in return, his expression grave.

"Okay," Bohdi said, breaking the silence that hung between them. "We're coming in." The words were a heavy breath, falling from his lips. He was acknowledged with silence. "There's a planet-wide defensive shield with a single main entry gate. This shuttle should be equipped with an access code that allows us through," he elaborated.

"Assuming," K added, his tone warning against untimely hope, "the Empire hasn't logged it as overdue."

Bohdi could not see the heads that whipped toward him as he nodded, confirming K's statement. "Or stolen," he agreed, and a heaviness blanketed the cockpit.

"And if they have?" Jyn asked, still settled in the corner where Rowan had previously seen her.

They waited with bated breath for the answer, and Bohdi's eyes widened as he himself contemplated the dangers for what seemed the first time.

"Then they shut the gate," he said simply, anxiety glazing his expression, "and we're all annihilated in the cold, dark vacuum of space."

Cassian's and Rowan's eyes met, wide and scared.

"Not me." K-2 suddenly broke the deadweight silence, shattering the crushing fear of death that rose to life. They all looked to him, confused and bemused. "I can survive in space," he explained. Rowan raised her eyebrows, withholding laughter.

Bohdi shook his head in amused disbelief as he reached for the mic to radio Gate Control. "Okay," he breathed. "Here it goes." His face became stony, marred by memories of times past as he repeated the words and patterns that had marked themselves upon his mind. "Cargo shuttle SW-0608, requesting a landing pad."

The voice on the other end crackled to life. "Cargo shuttle SW-0608, you're not listed on the arrival schedule."

"Acknowledged, Gate Control," he returned, and Rowan was surprised at the steadiness of his mind and his voice, "We were rerouted from Eadu Flight Station. Transmitting clearance code now."

"Transmitting," K repeated, flipping switches.

The cockpit held its breath, and Rowan pulled her eyes from the blue-green planet swirling below to meet Cassian's. She held his gaze, throwing all her fears and doubts into it, calming the tremors in her fingers, just as he did his.

"Cargo shuttle SW-0608," came the voice, "you are cleared for entry."

With a great heave, there was a collective exhale, and for the first time that day, Rowan saw Cassian smile brilliantly. It touched his eyes, and they sparkled with life and hope. Breathless, Rowan found herself beaming just as brightly, a reflection of his joy. Bohdi laughed and pumped his fist in the air, breathing deeply for the first time in quite a while, he realized.

"Impressive," was K's only comment, though the droid did sound truly impressed.

Jyn smiled. "I'll tell the others." And she disappeared down the ladder and into the midst of the men waiting below. At the thought of them, Rowan's doubts returned. The plan had been hastily concocted, and she could only hope that, despite its hurried nature, it would work, and they would soon find themselves back here, gathered in the cockpit, victory in their hands.

She forced away the dream as they sunk through the atmosphere, passing slowly, painstakingly, through the blue haze that marked the defensive shield of the planet, its deadly force held back by large walls lowered into it by the circular gate control that hovered high above the planet's surface. As the planet itself finally became fully visible beneath the shield, Rowan held back a gasp.

It truly was beautiful. A small planet, the surface consisted mostly of the sea, interspersed here and there with little islands that shone with white sands, the dazzling glimmer broken only by lush green undergrowth and what Rowan could only assume to be a derivative of palm trees. She had heard Scarif described as something of a paradise before, but she had not anticipated the profound beauty spread out before her.

Rowan started as the speaker buzzed to life once again, and the flight controller's voice burst through. "SW-0608 clear for landing pad nine. Acknowledge, please."

Bohdi fumbled with the mic, still grinning. "SW-0608 proceeding to LP9 as instructed."

Silence fell, and Rowan returned to her perusal of the planet below. The splendor of it was marred only by the large tower that protruded from the surface, high and sharp, an edifice worthy of the Empire's reign of terror. Buffeted by sandy winds that rolled off of the seas, its color, once the shocking black common to the Empire, had lost its intensity and taken on a tanned, faded grayish hue. Taken aback by its enormity, just as she was, Cassian peered forward through the glass.

"The main building down there," he gestured, speaking to Bohdi, "what is it?"

"That's the citadel tower. They keep all the Imperial structural archives in there," he explained, then paused and added, "If the plans are anywhere, they'll be there."

Cassian nodded, factoring the information into his previous assumptions.

"The dish at the top- what's it for?"

Rowan followed his finger, finally seeing the source of the perceived sharpness of the structure. It was a massive satellite dish perched precariously atop the thin tower. She knit her brows together in concern.

"I guess it takes a lot of signals to send those data files out," Bohdi mused.

"Landing track engaged," K interrupted, before they had time to contemplate what the satellite dish meant for their plans.

"Landing track locked," Bohdi answered, and the question that hung in the air was lost.

Cassian straightened and met Rowan's eyes. They lingered there for a moment, and Rowan felt the ball building in her throat as she strained desperately and hopelessly against the fate that pulled them onward into danger and the future, longing to stay here, with him, safe. She read sorrow in his eyes, too, and it made her own hurt all the more.

"Let's go," he said finally, with a struggling voice, and she nodded, resigned, following him down the ladder and back into the cramped belly of the ship.

She jostled into Cassian as her feet met the ship's floor and the flight became rocky with the descent, and he steadied her as he spoke to the men.

"We're landing," he told them. "We're coming in."

Uneasy silence settled on them as the fears they had so long ignored returned with a vengeance and burst through their barricades of resolution. Rowan attempted to ignore her own creeping dread as she strapped on what small weapons she could afford to carry, standing side by side with Cassian, forcing herself to face the wall and not the men she feared they had led to their deaths. But suddenly Jyn's voice broke through the quiet, and Rowan turned, finding herself listening with a growing awe to the words that fell from the woman's lips.

"Saw Gererra," the sounds trembled in Jyn's throat, struggling against the despair that hung in the ship, but they strengthened as she went on. "Saw Gererra used to say that one fighter with a sharp stick and nothing left to lose can take the day." She waited till the words sunk into the hearts of her listeners before she continued. "They have no idea we're coming. They have no reason to expect us. If we can make it to the ground, we'll take the next chance," she exhaled heavily, knowing full well the unlikelihood of an overabundance of chances. "And the next. And on and on until we win… or the chances are spent." She dared not name what such a phrase meant. "The Death Star plans are down there. Cassian, K-2, Rowan, and I will find them," her voice trembled. "We'll _find_ a way to find them."

Silence fell, but its tone had changed, lightened, and together, the men rose, grinning with that mad gleam of the condemned, ready with a vengeance for what lay ahead. Rowan looked to Cassian, found herself itching to move forward. Cassian's eyes glinted.

"Melshi, Pao, Baze, Chirrut, you'll take main squad, move east and get wide of the ship," he commanded. "Find a position between here and the tower. Once you get to the best spot, light the place up." Cassian paused, met Rowan's eyes and smirked before turning back to the men and taking in slowly each of their expressions. "Make ten men feel like a hundred," he finished.

Baze laughed, deep and booming. "Alright!" he roared.

Rowan beamed, eyes flashing, as Cassian continued, almost as an afterthought, "and keep those Troopers away from us."

"What should I do?"

The voice came from the ladder. During Jyn's speech to the men, Bohdi had crept down from the cockpit, intrigued and excited, anticipation building in him just as it did in the others.

Cassian placed a hand on the pilot's shoulder, looking him deep in the eyes with an urgency. "Keep the engine running. You're our only way out of here."

\- - -

"Cargo shuttle SW-0608, prepare to receive inspection team."

The voice came from above, and Rowan froze, crouched low beside Cassian, straining her ears to hear the words that passed above their heads. They'd gathered together in the ship's hold, preparing their ambush. Rowan fixed her gaze on the steel flooring, her eyes glazed by the monotony, attention focused on Bohdi's voice, filtered down through the small opening in the ship's belly just above.

"Hey," he greeted the officers entering, "you're probably looking for a manifest."

Rowan's grip on her blaster tightened; unconsciously, she began to clench and unclench her other fist, fingernails biting into the flesh of her palms. Cassian glanced down at the slight movement, knit his eyebrows in concern, placed a calloused hand on hers, stilling the nervous movements. Startled, she raised her eyes and met his. His expression read compassion, and his eyes urged calm. She nodded, understanding, and he suddenly smiled, a sheepish grin that lifted a corner of his lips as he squeezed her fist once more and let his hand fall to his side. She cocked her head and grinned in turn, looking back to the floor, waiting the signal of the officers' descent.

"It's just down here," came Bohdi's voice, and Baze, waiting just beneath the open hole, watching Bohdi for his signal, gave them a small thumbs up.

They leapt into action, Rowan leveling her blaster at the space where she expected the first Trooper to appear. Beside her, Cassian stiffened, his eyes hardening, and they waited, acutely aware of the footsteps that moved slowly, agonizingly slowly, across the floor above till they halted. Baze hurried to the side, allowing room for Bohdi, who led the way, dropping down through the hole first and moving quickly out of the way of the descending officers. As they dropped, one by one, through the floor, chaos ensued.

Unable to use blasters, the men resorted to fists, smacking the blasters out of the grips of the unprepared troopers, tackling them to the ground with a series of grunts and groans. Rowan found herself pushed to the side till the Imperial officer, spotting her in an open space, near the exit, leapt toward her. With an alarmed look, she slipped her blaster back into its holster and steadied her stance, throwing her fist into his jaw, sending his head flying to the side, where he was greeted with the butt of Cassian's blaster. He crumpled under the blow to his neck, and Rowan looked up to see that the tussle had ended, the men breathing heavily and staring down at the unconscious forms of the Stormtroopers, flight assistant, and officer.

She herself was breathing hard, and a sudden stinging from her fist brought her attention back to the world about her. She glanced down to see she was bleeding, a small trickle slipping from her knuckle, where the skin had been broken by her ring, the sword given her by Morpheus. As she watched the crimson stream wind its way down her finger, she found herself steadied, as if the one blow had brought iron to her core. Despite herself, she smiled.

"Alright," she exhaled. "Let's get this show on the road."

The Stormtrooper armor was as bulky and clumsy as she remembered, and she found herself smirking with Debnoli as he helped her into it.

"Any more comfortable?" he joked with her, and she raised her eyebrows, chuckling.

"What do you think?" The question was rhetorical, her tone light and jocular. Debnoli laughed and handed her her helmet.

"Don't trip." He smirked and gestured to the boots, large and awkward.

Rowan's eyes danced with amusement as she glanced down to them, shaking her head in incredulity at the sheer inefficiency of the armor. "No promises, mate," she sighed, "No promises."

Silence fell over the two, till Rowan looked up, finding that Melshi, BoShek, and Garouf had joined her and Debnoli. A sudden, strange sorrow filled her, as if she felt this would be the last time they would meet, and her eyes stung, throat clogging. She read the same sorrow in their eyes, too, and wondered at the premonition, hoping beyond hope that it would be false.

"Good luck," Melshi suddenly said, breaking the silence, his kind words taking a mournful undertone.

The others nodded in agreement, and she smiled, placing a hand on Melshi's and Debnoli's shoulders, the two on the outskirts of the half circle before her, wishing she could embrace them all.

"Thank you," she smiled, but it was soft, merely a raised corner of her lips. She paused, her hands falling from their shoulders as she saw Cassian, Jyn, and K moving to the exit, looking back hesitantly toward her. "I'll see y'all soon," she whispered, but there was a lie in it. She knew it, and so did they, but they did not question it. They had accepted their fate, and she hers, and so there was a peace as she stepped away, meeting Cassian's eyes before she raised the helmet handed to her by Debnoli above her head and lowered it slowly, sucking in the last breath of fresh air she would have before she was entombed in the suffocating dark of the Stormtrooper helmet. Steeling herself, adrenaline coursing through her, she followed Cassian, Jyn, and K-2 into the glaring sunlight of Scarif.

\- - -

Luke paced the floor of Romulus' ship, breath coming in short, hard gasps. Of course she had gotten herself involved in the Rebellion, and of course she had somehow managed to find the son of Kronos and befriend him. _Of course_. He should have expected nothing less from his sister. In their days on the streets, moving from shelter to shelter, she was the one that had gotten into the most trouble, and he the one that had saved her, over and over again, and though he had not regretted it for one moment, he feared he would be too late this time, and the fear drove him mad till he could no longer sit still. His thoughts spiraled, his heart raced, and his eyes seemed dazed and confused as his brain festered with trembling anxieties.

The ship could not move fast enough.

Clover perched on the bench opposite his young charge, watching his frantic movements from afar, the same concern he had worn on the trip to Yavin 4 still plastered over the satyr's face. He did not regret helping Luke to look for his sister, nor did he regret involving himself in the danger he could practically feel lurking beneath their feet, barely detected. He could only anticipate that, soon, the rug would be pulled from beneath them, and they would find themselves tumbling head over heels into some new intrigue. The mention of the son of Kronos had put Clover on edge; it had put them all on edge, and all his thoughts led to it.

"We're coming in." The voice was Morpheus, and Luke started forward, leaping to the cockpit and peering between the two of them, straining to catch a glimpse of the planet below.

His heart bottomed out at the sight, and he lost his balance, gripping hold of Morpheus' chair for support. The planet below was a war-zone. Everywhere he looked, explosions rocked the surface in maddening displays of red-hot flames. Troops of various colors ran helter-skelter upon the beaches of the island, firing blasters left and right at unnamed opponents. And then his eyes caught hold of the defense shield, its blue glow threatening their hope. His heart sunk as he watched gate control suddenly begin to raise its barriers. With each second, hope was lost.

"Go, go, go," he urged, gesturing wildly at the shield.

But Romulus was already on it, and he slammed the acceleration forward. The ship jumped to movement as the rest of the rebel fleet appeared behind them, pulling out of lightspeed. Luke flew backwards, skidding across the floor of the ship despite Clover's attempts to catch him. He came to a slow stop against the back wall, and shook his head, clearing it. He met Clover's compassionate eyes above and his own steeled.

"We need to gear up," he told the satyr, and his friend nodded, his own expression hardening to match his charge's.

Leaping to his feet, Luke threw himself toward the duffel Maz had loaded their old ship with, filled with as many weapons as they'd need, as if she'd anticipated a situation of this nature. Vigor renewed, his old exhaustion and fear replaced with an energy and anticipation he could remember from his days at Camp Half-Blood during those invigorating games of capture the flag, though never before had his blood pumped so forcefully in his veins. Beside him, Clover seemed less enthusiastic, simply glancing up once or twice to take in Luke's expression. But the boy moved quickly, and finished arming before Clover had even decided which weapon to take, now hurrying back toward the cockpit.

"Land near the fighting," he told Romulus. "She'll be there if anywhere."

Gravely, Romulus nodded. "And if she's not?"

Luke's eyes hardened and he inclined his head in understanding, eyes fixed on the fighting below as it grew ever closer. He turned back to the duffel, and rummaged quickly through it till he found what he sought, a pair of walkie-talkies that had obviously seen better days, but still functioned well enough. He strode back to the cockpit and handed one to Morpheus, deciding not to disturb the werewolf's concentrated efforts.

"If she's not, I'll contact you on that. Stay in range if you can. If not, I'll update you when you are." He swallowed heavily; as they drew closer to the fight below, he could hear the screams, see the expressions of the men's faces as blaster bullets tore them apart, and his heart sunk with dread that his sister might be among them.

With bated breath, he returned to the body of the ship, waiting side by side with Clover before the door that would grant them entrance to the raging battle below. Time seemed to slow, sound fade, as Luke clenched and unclenched his fists, desperate to be set loose from this metal cage. He turned to see Clover's face, pinched with concern, but eyes flashing with adrenaline.

Suddenly, Luke's heart slowed, and he remembered all the satyr had done for him in the days before, remembered the endless kindnesses, the fatherly care, and he smiled.

"Thank you," he mumbled, and Clover looked up, surprised and confused, till he read Luke's expression, and understood.

"Don't mention it, kid," he told him, and looked back to the doors, Luke following suit. A breath later, Romulus' voice came from the cockpit.

"Time to go!" he shouted, and the door at the side of the ship flung open with a bang, revealing churning, muddy beach just below, the ship hovering.

With a roaring laugh, Clover leapt forward, and Luke followed, his knees almost buckling as he hit the ground with a splash and a sucking noise. Behind him, the ship's door slammed closed, and Romulus and Morpheus rose back into the harsh sunlight of the planet. Courage returned, Luke forced his legs forward through the mud and the saltwater that stung his eyes, his attention laser-focused solely now upon his sister and the satyr before him that cut a line easily through the churning seas.


	26. Twenty Five

"This is not working, K!" The exclamation came from behind Rowan, and she turned, confused and worried at the frustration in Cassian's voice. He and Jyn were crouched low beside a security pad, wrestling the unconscious form of an Imperial officer for control of his hand, smacking it repeatedly into the scanner.

K paused from his position at the control panel for the data archives, the door they needed access to, and looked up, musing. Rowan raised her eyebrows, amused despite her urgency.

"Right hand," K returned.

Rowan looked back to Cassian and watched him heft the officer's right hand, slamming it down upon the scanner. With a beep and a hiss, the door to the archives flew open, and the officer's hand squeaked as it slid slowly down from the smooth, glassy surface of the scanner. The officer landed in a heap on the floor, and Cassian and Jyn hurried into the archives. Rowan looked back to the black linoleum of the citadel's halls, standing guard both for her friends and for the sake of the disguise of her armor, which had grown no less suffocating, especially now that she felt the presence of a new danger.

The impression, the tingling in her spine as her hair rose perceptibly on the back of her neck, was all-too-familiar. It was the feeling she could remember from her days on the streets with Luke, that gentle tell that danger was near. She had felt it recently, too, and she searched her memory for its last appearance, surprised when she realized she had felt it on Wobani, deep in the heart of the Imperial prison, in Stormtrooper armor then, too. It put her on edge, and she clutched the large black blaster a little tighter, wondering if Cassian could feel it, too. She doubted it; the importance of this mission would have steamrolled any minor impression made upon his nervous system. He'd dedicated all his attention to it.

"Rebel fleet has arrived." The words came from K, and Rowan started out of her reverie, looking to the droid, then to Cassian, who had paused and glanced back to Rowan and K.

"What?" Jyn asked, confused, all thought of the structural plans lost for a moment. But she was brought back to attention by Cassian returning to the search, fiddling with the control panel for the archives in some attempt to understand how it functioned.

"There's fighting on the beach," K explained. "They've locked down the base." He paused. "They've closed the shield gate."

Beneath the helmet, Rowan blanched. Cassian's shoulders tightened, and he turned back to K, eyes wide with alarm. A dreadful silence fell over them, deepening the already quiet halls.

Jyn looked from Rowan to Cassian, her heart sinking at the sight of their shared fear. "What does that mean?" she asked. "We're trapped?"

There came no answer, but the heavy quiet sufficed, and her eyebrows knit together, a lump forming in her throat. Despair springing her into action as she realized the uselessness of her disguise after these new developments, Rowan began to strip off the Stormtrooper armor, starting with the helmet and sucking in a breath of profoundly fresh air. As she did so, she listened to K as he walked them through their only hope to save the Death Star plans, if nothing else.

"We could transmit the plans to the rebel fleet," K mused, before elaborating on the intricacies of the plan. "We'd have to get a signal out to tell them it's coming." He paused as he realized the difficulties of his idea, and Rowan looked up from where she'd bent over, unstrapping the greaves from her shins. Her eyes had hardened, her face paled. "It's the size of the data files," he answered the unspoken question. "That's the problem. They'll never get through." He looked to each of them, meeting their eyes. "Someone has to take that shield gate down."

Hands barely trembling, Cassian pulled his radio from his belt and held it to his lips as he paced back and forth. "Bohdi!" he cried into it. "Bohdi, can you hear me?" There was an agonizing pause. "Bohdi, tell me you're out there!" He breathed, meeting Rowan's eyes as she kicked the last of the armor into the corner, her own hands shaking violently at the fear that churned within her. "Bohdi!" he called, his eyes never leaving hers, a shared hopelessness sinking their hearts together.

The radio crackled to life, and Rowan breathed a profound sigh of relief, her eyes stinging with tears as Bohdi's voice broke through. "Hello, I'm here!" he cried, and Cassian seemed to collapse in on himself, his anxiety dissipating with the tension in his muscles. A smile broke his face before Bohdi continued speaking. "We're standing by. They've started fighting," he explained, his voice filling with dread. "The base is on lockdown."

"I know," Cassian responded, instilling as much calm into his voice as he could. "Listen to me," he commanded. "The rebel fleet is up there," a sound from Bohdi, indicating his surprise, interrupted Cassian, "You've got to tell them to blow a hole in the shield gate so we can transmit the plans."

At the other end, Bohdi breathed heavily. Rowan balled her fists in anxiety, moving to Cassian, eyes fixed on the radio. "Wait," the pilot protested. "I can't! I'm- I'm not hooked into the comms tower! We're not tied in!"

Frustration built in Cassian's eyes. "It's the only way we're getting them out of here," he urged the importance of the mission. "Find a way!"

He stuffed the radio back into his belt before looking to Rowan, then K. "Cover our backs," he told the droid, sighing deeply, his eyes conveying as much trust and compassion as he could. Rowan placed a hand on his shoulder, then turned with him to the archives, profoundly thankful she was no longer cocooned in the Stormtrooper armor and able to move freely. Behind her, she heard Jyn jog quickly to K.

"You'll need this," she told the droid, and Rowan looked back, confused, to see her handing K a small blaster. A smile split her face. "You wanted one, right?" Jyn pressed when K hesitated, urging the blaster forward into the droid's large hands.

"You're behavior, Jyn Erso," the droid said, its mechanical eyes searching her living ones, "is continually unexpected."

A pang went through Rowan's heart, and her smile lost a little of its luster, suddenly sad and far away.

"Jyn," she called gently. "Come on!"

Jyn turned to her and hurried to work beside Cassian as Rowan met the droid's eyes once more. She smiled kindly at him, and gave a small, two-fingered salute. "See you on the other side, mate."

She turned her back on the droid and jogged back to Cassian and Jyn, placing herself to the side, her blaster readied and aimed at the open door, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn't have to use it.

"Schematics Bank, Data Tower Two," K commanded, his voice filtering in through the opening.

"How do I find that?" Cassian returned, peering up through the glass at the tower of hard drives that seemed to climb endlessly up to the sky, the top shrouded by the mist of the shadowy interior and distance. There was an edge of hopelessness to his voice.

"Searching," K answered. "I can locate the tape, but you'll need the handles for extraction."

Rowan's and Cassian's gazes fell to the strange looking handles of which K spoke. They seemed like contraptions from an old video game Rowan would have seen in the arcades her and Luke had used to sneak into, and she knit her brows together in confusion.

"What are we supposed to do with these?" Cassian sighed, removing the Imperial officer's gloves and placing his hands gently into the handles, as if they were a wild animal to be tamed. He moved them gently back, and with a whoosh, the retrieving mechanism, manually controlled, she realized, by the handles, shot about the tower, up and out of view. "Whoa," Cassian breathed, jerking his hands out of the handles and staring at them with a newfound awe.

They were startled out of their amazement by the dreaded sound of footsteps behind them, and the hiss of the archive door closing. Rowan leapt to it, about to throw herself against it till she heard K's voice, muffled.

"Well, finally," the droid scolded some new, unseen, arrival, and Rowan looked back to Cassian, eyes wild as she began to fear the worst.

The same dread burned within his own gaze, and he quickly brought the radio back to his lips. "K! What's going on out there?"

They waited in stunned silence as the sound of blaster bullets ricocheting off the walls of the citadel reached their ears. Each second seemed an eternity till K's voice broke through the radio. "I'm fine," he told them. "Keep looking!"

\- - -

"Hyperspace Tracking, Navigational Systems," Jyn read off into the radio as Cassian waited anxiously, hands latched onto the retrieving mechanism's handles, eyes boring into the tower before him, extending high into the building, bloodshot. Out in the hall behind them came the occasional sounds of blasters firing and the grunts of Stormtroopers as they fell to the ground, dead. The only relief to their fears for their droid friend was his voice, crackling through Cassian's radio every few seconds or so.

"Two screens down," K told Jyn. "Structural Engineering. Open that one."

Hurriedly, Jyn did, her fingers flying across the screen as she sorted through the thousands of options presented to her.

"Project code names," she read. "Stellarsphere. Mark Omega. Pax Aurora. War Mantle. Cluster Prism. Black Saber…" Her voice died away.

Cassian, who had been nodding along to the names, pondering them one by one, paused and looked to her. It took a moment for the silence to register with Rowan, too, and she turned back from her position standing guard behind them to catch a glimpse of Jyn's face. Her expression had completely transformed, her features suddenly suffused with a deep sorrow and loss as she mouthed the next name, stumbling over it before she could give it sound.

"What?" Cassian pressed gently, glancing to Rowan. The two shared an expression of concern for their friend.

"Stardust," she told him, and looked up. "That's it." Conviction was in her eyes; her voice held the soft laugh of incredulous hope.

"How do you know that?" Cassian asked, confused, though her hope was reflected in his own features.

"I know because it's me," she answered slowly, her voice barely audible in the pounding silence.

Suddenly, there was an explosion of noise behind the door, and Rowan whipped back around, expecting it to be thrown open any moment. Her grip on her blaster tightened, her eyes flashed, sharpening with a harsh focus. Blasters fired in the corridors, echoed in the great empty space of the citadel. Cries of men rang out, grunts came like cracks of thunder.

Rowan eased forward, eager to meet danger head on. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing tall, shock still as she felt that great danger she had sensed before approaching. She forced a tense calm to her muscles, convincing herself to flow with her reflexes, surrendering control to her subconscious. Her mind clear, she began to realize what this battle would cost her, and she met the price with a vengeance, readying herself for whatever would come next.

"K," Cassian called through the radio. "We need the file for Stardust."

"Stardust," K repeated, laboredly. Rowan tensed. The fighting was drawing closer. The sounds of marching footsteps seemed to come from every direction. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that K was surrounded, and they would soon be, too, if the Stormtroopers made it through the door.

Behind her, Jyn called out. "That's it!" She pointed to the small, blinking green light high above, and Cassian hurried to tame the retrieving mechanism beneath his hands, eyes flashing as he wrestled them into submission, moving the whirring mechanism up and about the tower, gently, tentatively guiding it to its place above the file, before he turned one handle and pushed it forward. With a satisfying hiss, the mechanism slipped into the tower of data files and emerged with the file itself, held out from its fellows. And then the lights went out and the machinery dead, immersing them in the pale glow of emergency lights.

Outside, the cacophony crescendoed, and Cassian paused, jogging to Rowan's side, fear spiking at the roar of battle that filtered in, muffled, to them. Rowan glanced over and met his eyes. Their stomachs bottomed out in fear for their friend, now trapped in a battle he could not win. The noises grew louder, Rowan could hear the unmistakeable sound of plasma bullets hitting metal, and her heart dropped as she stumbled forward to charge outside to the rescue of the droid that had become so close in the past few days. She could only imagine the raging grief that filled Cassian, but he held her back by the arm, only watching the door in desperate dread as he called to K through the radio.

There was a silence outside, and K radioed back, his voice strained with urgency. "Climb," he commanded, and Cassian looked back to the archival tower in disbelief. "_Climb_," K repeated. "You can still send the plans to the fleet," he pressed. "If they open the shield gate, you can still broadcast from the tower!" he shouted over the fresh sound of blasters, bursting forth from all directions. Rowan leapt toward the door, breaking free of Cassian's hold as his fingers went numb. "Locking vault door now," K radioed, and Rowan crashed into the door, crumpling against the cold metal.

Ear pressed against it, she heard the unmistakable sounds of the droid's clunking footsteps as he moved from around the control panel, into the open clearing of the hall.

Silence, profound silence fell, and from her position on the floor, Rowan met Cassian's eyes. Ravaged with a bloodshot grief, he turned from her, calling for K through the radio as he strode to the door, as if his gaze, fierce and focused, could pierce through the thick steel.

"Goodbye," K retuned, simply, and his voice was lost in the sounds of battle.

"No, no, _no_!" Cassian roared into the radio. "K! _K_!"

His voice broke, and he stumbled forward, nearly falling before Rowan shot to her feet and caught him, steadying him against herself. They remained there for a time, clinging to each other as the sounds of Stormtroopers and blasters died away, punctuated finally with a loud clang, what they could only assume to be K's body, falling in a pile to the unforgiving floor.

As if the sound, heavier than the tower that rose high above them, had shaken Cassian awake, slamming through his grief and tearing through his senses, he straightened and held the radio to his lips again, eyes burning, pacing the floor with a renewed desperation.

"Bohdi?" he called. "Are you there? Have you got the switch?"

"I can't get to the shuttle," Bohdi returned, his voice hopeless. "I can't plug in."

Cassian's eyes flashed. "You have to!" he commanded, voice firm, unyielding. "They have to hit that gate. If the shield's open, we can send the plans!"

Bohdi's voice went dead on the line, with a suddenness that they could only hope meant he had hurried to his task. Silence fell over the three. Cassian looked back to the tower, studying it. Jyn looked between him and Rowan, grief dazing her. Rowan simply glared at the glass, straightening and whipping her blaster from its place stuffed in her belt.

"Move," she commanded, voice low. Without giving them a moment to process the word, she fired a bullet at the glass, and they leapt out of the way. Air rushed in, cold and harsh as the glass fell, tinkling, to the ground several floors below.

Rowan strode forward as Cassian hurried to readjust his weaponry, and Jyn hers, preparing for the climb ahead. In the whistling wind that whipped the loose strands of Rowan's hair about her face, she suddenly felt it, like the ominous boom of a war-drum. Whatever danger she had been sensing was back, and nearer than ever before. She met Cassian's eyes, and read there the same dread. As Jyn leapt from the window, and they watched with anxious hearts her slam into the tower and catch hold of the ledges and hard drives, steadying herself as her foot slipped, Cassian grabbed hold of her arm, holding her back.

"What is it?" His voice was low, barely audible over the wind.

"I don't know," Rowan shook her head, "but it's near, and we need to go."

Cassian nodded in understanding. "You first."

He gestured to the window, offering her a hand as she climbed up onto the control panel, shut off at the locking of the door behind them. Expression grave, she took his hand, steadying herself as she faced down the tower. Above her, Jyn looked down, inching her way around the tower till she was no longer visible from the broken window. With a deep breath, Rowan tensed her muscles, slipped her blaster back into her belt, and threw herself at the tower, arms outstretched.

The wind tore at her clothes as her hands gripped the first ledge they found, and her muscles engaged, pulling and catching and rippling with the shock waves as they fought against gravity. Rowan hissed in pain, biting her lip and drawing blood, but moved on, glancing back to Cassian as she followed Jyn, creeping like a spider to the unseen half of the tower, moving steadily upward. High above, the file jutted out, and it was only the desire to reach it that brought strength to her limbs as she forced herself forward.

The sound of the archive door banging open brought her attention back to Cassian, and she watched as he, too, leapt madly at the tower, catching himself and looking back to the window.

The hair on Rowan's neck seemed to shoot straight up, and her nervous system roared its warning. Whatever the danger was, she had no doubt it lurked in the room where they had just been. Desperate to catch a glimpse, she inched her way back the way she'd come, eyes peering through the shattered glass. Below her, Cassian had drawn his blaster and was hanging onto the tower with one hand, his feet planted firmly on some hard drives below. He glanced up at Jyn and Rowan.

"Keep going!" he roared as plasma bullets began to pour from the shadowed darkness of the window. Rowan shook her head, a ball in her throat, inching down, back toward her friend.

"No," she choked, drawing her own blaster, aiming at the window, and firing back.

From the darkness rose three figures, two Deathtroopers and a man, an officer dressed in white. Alarm pounded through Rowan, her nerves going wild at this new danger, and confusion filled her as she recognized the officer: Director Krennic. But her stomach bottomed out when the man smiled, a toothy, sinister grin, his eyes fixed on Cassian and Cassian alone, firing with a struggling aim at the Deathtroopers.

Time slowed as Rowan watched Krennic raise his blaster, aim directly for Cassian, and pull the trigger.

With a cry of pain, Cassian fell, his body smacking against bars and protrusions as he plummeted through the shadows of the tower and came to a final, still, rest upon a platform far below.

"_Cassian_!" Rowan roared, faltering in her fire at the Deathtroopers. Krennic met her eyes, grinned wickedly once more, and turned, striding back into the darkness of the window. With a roar of anger, Rowan found her mind cleared, and fired with deadly aim upon the Deathtroopers. With cries, they fell backward, and Rowan looked back to Jyn, her eyes bloodshot, her face wild, and Jyn started.

"Keep going!" Rowan shouted over the wind. "You don't need me! Go! I'll take care of him!" She gestured wildly to the ceiling high above and spared no second glance, her eyes falling to Cassian as she slipped and slid and hurried down the tower to his limp form, splayed out upon the platform, his face turned from her.

Her heart beat wildly against her ribcage, her palms sweating, her throat clogging. She could not lose him, not now, not ever, and the fear drove her mad. She felt she were struggling against tidal waves to reach him, the wind pulling at her clothes and her hair, her eyes dazed and unfocused and wet with tears that flowed from deep within her. Her breath shallow and hard, she finally, finally, reached the platform and threw herself upon it, knees buckling as she hit the ground from high up and forcing her down to kneel beside him.

"Cassian," she whispered, taking hold of his shoulders and turning him gently over, assessing his body for any visible fatal injuries. "Cassian," she choked, begging him to wake, his eyes to open as she felt around the cauterized hole in his shoulder where he'd been hit. Sucking in a gasp at the sight of the wound, she cursed herself for not bringing ambrosia, and felt around his ribs, looking for the fractures she knew he would have suffered at such a fall.

They were there, and bad, and Rowan's heart seemed to burst from her ribs. She bit her already bleeding lip, found her eyes tracing his face once more, the kind features she had grown to know so well during her time with him, the soft hair, tangled by the breezy tower, the high cheekbones and gentle smile resting contentedly upon his lips.

She would be able to heal only the bullet wound, and even that, she knew, might be too much for her strength. But she had to try. Her breathing slowed, and some iron strength stilled within her. A sad smile touched her own lips, and her eyes slid closed as she summoned the power from deep within her gut, feeling the shadow run like a stream, refreshing and cold, to her hands. She traced the blaster wound that had torn through him, her touch feathery-light, her heart wrenching in empathy at the pain that ran its course through his veins. She poured what she could into her hand, placing her free one atop it, pressing softly into the wound, adding her hopes and prayers to the power in her veins, feeling the flesh knit itself back together, the seared burns smoothed and healed, till her eyes slid open, her job done, and she found tears had formed, clumping on her eyelashes, splashing one by one into the fabric on Cassian's chest.

Her eyes swam with exhaustion, shadow flickering in her periphery, her heart slowing, limbs weak. He had not stirred; no life had returned to his features, and her heart sunk. Desperation flickered to life within her, and she did what she could to repress the panic building in her mind.

She placed a trembling hand on his cheek, rubbing the cheekbone, whispering his name, eyes searching his face in jerky, not quite focused movements, glazed with the battle against her anxieties. He did not move, still limp, and her heart began to beat rapidly against her ribcage as she fought against her fears. She scanned the small platform till her eyes came to rest on the wall to her right, partially shielded from the biting winds of the tower. Forcing herself to her feet, she stood, looking back to Cassian's injured body and steeling herself against hope.

She knelt once more, this time wrapping her arms about his chest and pulling him to her own in a strange embrace as she crawled, her muscles trembling with exhaustion from her use of shadow to heal his wounds and her exertions climbing the tower. It became easier as the wind died, once they passed the first edge of her temporary shelter and it could no longer pull at her or Cassian. With a steady exhale, she lowered him against the wall, letting his head fall gently back against the steel, cushioning it with her palm. She paused there once more, and her hand moved softly to his cheek, pouring as much warmth into the touch as she could.

"Cassian," she whispered, begging him to wake. "Cassian." The name fell from her lips softly, tenderly, desperately. "Cassian," she said again, this time louder, her voice breaking. "I need you to wake up, mate," she choked. "Please wake up."

But there was no movement in his body except for the remaining breeze gently sifting through his clothes, and her head fell, defeated, exhausted, onto his chest, listening with a desperate hope to the faint heartbeat that fluttered there, wishing she might strengthen it by some force of will, but knowing she had nothing left to give. It was that that broke her, and the tears began to flow, breaking forth with a choking sob as she remembered K-2 and his sacrifice, and, further back, Leo and his. So caught up in the pain that her life had brought her, she found herself longing for Luke even more, wishing she could go back to the days of innocent and laughing joy they had once known, even in the midst of danger. She felt her heart slowly tearing to shreds, and she huddled nearer to Cassian, pressing her face into his chest, breathing in the familiar smell of his ship, biting her lip in an effort to stem the burning streams of tears that raced down her cheeks.

\- - -

Luke and Clover trudged at a half-run, the best they could manage in all the chaos, through the warring mess that was Scarif's surface, blasters ready and firing at each approaching Stormtrooper they encountered, till they came across a clearing. It might once have been beautiful, but it had been torn apart by the bombs and blaster fire that that ravaged the whole planet. The soil, once packed and smooth, had been churned and ripped up.

As Clover stared in horror, Luke hissed, a plasma bullet grazing his arm and ripping through the fabric of his jacket. Glancing to the right, he saw that rolls in the dirt hid a large troop of Stormtroopers, and then he noticed the streaks of red that flew maddeningly across the open clearing, slamming into a wall on the other end, where he could just catch a glimpse of the rebels that hid there, pressed into the grooves and corners of it, sheltered from the blaster fire.

Hope building, Luke tackled Clover to the ground, the air rushing from his lungs as he hit the dirt. Clover choked, spitting the stuff from his mouth and looking to Luke, offense burning in his eyes.

"What'd you do that for?" the satyr exclaimed, moving to get up, before Luke pushed him back into the ground and gestured to the rebels, hidden in the wall. Clover stopped spluttering.

"We need to get to them," Luke shouted over the explosions about them, his hand finding its grip on his blaster beneath him. Wordlessly, Clover nodded, all astonishment dissipating from his face, replaced with an expression of iron determination.

Together, they inched forward, army crawling through the brush on the outskirts of the clearing, their eyes fixed on the rebels ahead. Suddenly, one of them glanced over, and nearly jumped out of his skin, meeting Luke's bloodshot gaze. He elbowed his compatriot urgently, and the man looked over, starting, too. Luke couldn't help but smirk. A question formed upon the man's face, and he signed something to Luke, but in the flurry of movement and the dirt that was thrown up and rained down upon the clearing, he could not understand the motions. He inched forward, trying hard to get a better view of the man, but suddenly fear spasmed across his face and he frantically waved Luke back from the clearing, shouting something to him, but it was lost in the roar of the blasters about him.

"What?" Luke hollered back, eyebrows knit together in alarm, till he became aware of Clover tugging on his sleeve once more, gesturing to Luke's right. He looked over, baffled, expecting some new threat, but what met his eyes only served to deepen his confusion. There, walking slowly through the clearing with a measured, unfaltering pace, was a blind man, staff clutched in his hands, held before him with the type of discipline Luke would have expected out of a karate movie, all the while muttering to himself. The words were lost in the cacophony, but his lips formed the same shapes repeatedly, some type of mantra the man seemed to cling to.

Mesmerized, Luke could not pull his eyes away, as if he were watching, on the edge of his seat, some thriller, waiting, ever waiting for the fatal gunshot. But all the plasma bullets missed the man, even though they rained like hellfire on the clearing. Bombs cast up the dirt, and shaded the man from their eyes, but each time, he re-emerged, unharmed, undaunted, still moving toward the small console, surprisingly undamaged, that stood at the center of the clearing.

Luke moved slowly, pulling his walkie talkie from his pocket, looking even more battered than it had before. He brought it to his lips, dragging his arm beneath his body weight, moving discreetly as possible, eyes now flicking back and forth between the blind man and the Stormtroopers, reinforcements advancing ominously behind them through the ash and dust.

"Romulus," he muttered. A moment later, and the werewolf answered. Clover and Luke sighed in relief.

"I'm here," came the low voice. "It's a mess from up here."

"Yeah," Luke's eyes flashed. "We're gonna need a ride outta here," he added, glancing up to the skies above, but still unable to see the ship.

"On it," Romulus returned, his voice hardened, emotionless. Luke breathed easier as he returned the walkie talkie to his pocket and his eyes found the man once more. He had reached the console, his fingers moving nimbly through the buttons and switches till they came to firmly rest upon the switch. As the man began to push the switch forward with some effort, a flurry of movement back on Luke's left caused him to jerk his head in that direction. A large man was rising out of the huddled rebels, armed to the teeth with a repeating cannon he held in powerful arms like a gun, cooling tank strapped to his back, chained to the gun by a series of rounds. It was the most powerful handheld weapon Luke had ever seen, and he could not help his jaw dropping at the sight.

The man was roaring something, and Luke strained to hear it, looking back and forth between the blind man and the massive one.

"Chirrut!" he yelled, leveling his blaster at the Stormtroopers, and firing upon them with concentrated anger. The cannon rattled off the shots in his arms, shaking his tree-like body. Luke raised his eyebrows, impressed. Suddenly, there was frantic shouting from the rebels, and even the large man started, looking to the space above Luke and Clover's heads. They, too, looked up, but relief suffused their features, vastly different from the fear that paled those of the rebels.

Romulus had arrived, the belly of the ship sinking through the trees to the clearing, where the Stormtroopers were now scrambling out of the way. Luke and Clover stood together, eyes fixed on the descending ship as it moved over and above them, lowering slowly into the churned dirt. Remembering the blind man and the large one, Luke leapt out of the undergrowth, hurrying about the ship, searching for the pair. He located them on the opposite side of the ship's belly, the massive man blinking harshly against the dirt thrown up by the ship's engines.

"Hey!" Luke shouted, waving an arm toward them, squinting against the wind, shielding his face. "Hey!" he roared again, and the blind man looked to him. "We need your help!" He was surprised his voice could rise above the engine's, and eagerly gestured them into the ship's belly where Clover waited, gripping the edge of the open door, his other arm outstretched to help the first of the rebels.

The large man smiled brightly and hurried forward against the battering winds, helping his blind friend toward the ship. As they passed him, trudging through the soft dirt, the large man patted Luke heavily on the back, and he stumbled forward at the strength of the blow.

"Thank you!" he boomed mightily, and Luke grinned and flipped him a thumbs-up in turn, before scrambling back the way he'd come, waving madly at the group of huddled rebels.

"Come on!" he roared, gesturing wildly at the ship. "Come on!"

The man who had first made eye contact with him came first, standing slowly, eyes peeled for approaching Stormtroopers, then he turned back to his men and began to fire off orders, waving them in the direction of Luke and the ship. Cheering, they jogged forward through the dirt and the wind, each of them patting Luke's shoulder as they passed him and were helped into the ship by Clover, who waited only for his young charge. The commanding rebel followed his troop last, and Luke joined him as he jogged to the ship, leaving his death behind with a laughing heart.

"Thanks," the rebel breathed as they moved together.

"No problem," Luke returned, momentarily taken aback by the Irish accent that touched the man's voice.

He followed the man into the ship, and the door slammed closed behind them, submersing them into a pale light as Romulus called from the front in an agitated, but controlled voice.

"Where to next?"

Luke looked to the rebel captain and the others clustered there. "I'm looking for my sister," he told them. "Her name's Rowan Castellan, and I was told she'd be here. Do you know where she is?" He hoped beyond hope she was still alive.

The rebel captain's face lit up in recognition of the name. "We do," he reassured Luke, gripping the man's shoulder. "But we'll need someone else to get you her exact location," he continued, warning against the hope that rose to life in Luke's eyes. The demigod nodded, understanding, before he gestured to the cockpit.

"Guide them," he told the rebel, before looking back to the men. To his right, he caught the eyes of Clover, and a shared anticipation moved like a current between them as he let out a breath he hadn't known he'd held.


	27. Twenty Six

Cassian woke with a start, eyes struggling against the darkness of the tower till they came to rest on a familiar form, pressed into him. It was Rowan, and his eyebrows knit together in concern when he realized she was crying, shivering, her body gathered as close to him as possible, huddled against the cold and against some profound sorrow that ravaged her mind and brought the hot tears to her cheeks that streamed down, landing in a small puddle in his open palms. Her sobs racked her body, and his heart began to beat hard.

"Rowan," he whispered softly, his breath ruffling the hair that hung loose from her bun over her ear. He adjusted his position, wrapping his arms about her and holding her close. Her sobs stopped, and she stiffened, surprised, looking up into his face, rubbing harshly at the tears that still dampened her cheeks. Her eyes, red and bloodshot, met his, tired but gentle, and a sudden, profound hope rose within them.

"You're okay," she breathed, hiccuping a little.

Cassian nodded and smiled, chuckling at the catch in her breath. "I'm okay," he whispered, and her eyes softened once more, the tears, this time of joy, threatening to flow. Her breath coming in slower bursts, she relaxed once more into his embrace, thankful for this moment of rest, even should it not last. Heart pounding, Cassian held her closer, and his eyes churned with pain as he thought of the battle they yet had before them.

"We should go," Rowan finally mumbled into his chest, and he nodded, reluctantly letting his arms fall from her shoulders. She met his eyes as she pulled away, an accidental glance, and she was suddenly transfixed, finding herself lost in the soft brown. She held back a gasp, worked hard to steady her breathing as her heart suddenly began to beat irregularly. She looked quickly away, pushing herself to her feet and holding out a hand, falling back into his eyes once more as she spoke.

"Can- Can you walk well?" she asked, suddenly aware of the great emptiness of the tower, looking up and marveling for the first time at its enormity, feeling the heaviness in her heart as it sunk. Her eyes fell back to Cassian, who was watching her curiously, his head cocked, his brow furrowed, and she smiled gently, repressing the fluttering heart that burst to life within her chest.

As if waking from a stupor, Cassian shrugged and shifted his legs, working to get them beneath him and stand. With a groan, he clutched at his ribs and looked back to her, eyes squinting in pain. Rowan started forward, kneeling down beside him, wrapping an arm about his torso, her touch as gentle as she could make it. He hissed as she stiffened, straightening, her legs scrambling beneath her for a foothold even as his did, and she winced in empathy, breathing easier when they stood finally, buffeted now by the wind of the tower. Darkness swam before Rowan's eyes, and she realized how much healing Cassian's wound had cost her, sagging a little even as she supported him.

"Are you alright?" he asked suddenly, his voice low in her ear.

"Yeah," she swallowed determinedly, helping him step slowly forward. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Unable to contest the point, Cassian nodded, and they moved back to the tower, gazing up it in despair to the roof, where Jyn had disappeared. Cassian sucked in a deep breath, taking a stumbling step toward the tower, before faltering and falling back into Rowan's arms as she leapt forward to catch him.

"I-," she breathed heavily, "I can shadow travel. We- we can get K, too." Her voice was low as she spoke, swallowing past the ball in her throat. "We can fix him when we get out of here."

"Morpheus said that's what you did on Jakku," Cassian started, and Rowan nodded, cutting him off.

"Yeah," she said. "It's gonna feel weird, but I can do it." Cassian noticed she seemed to be convincing herself.

"He said it saps your energy," he finished, and Rowan nodded again, this time slowly.

"I know," she told him, meeting his eyes, her own resolute, a desperate steeliness deep within. "But I can do it. I have to. You might want to close your eyes," she added, sucking in a deep breath, preparing herself.

Cassian knit his brows together in concern, but did not protest, simply nodding and doing as he was told, his eyes sliding closed. He reached for his blaster as he did so, knowing full well that they might find themselves shadow traveling into more danger, and she admired him for the awareness. She watched him for a moment, the lines about his eyes tightening, resisting the butterflies that fluttered in her gut, frowning sadly, her features seeming to age infinitely in two seconds. Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she looked back at the ground, steeled herself, and reached deep within herself for that icy cold rush of power lurking somewhere behind her heart.

They were suddenly immersed in shadow, and Rowan felt Cassian's body stiffen against her as the chill, ethereal wind rushed over and through them. He held her closer then, and she fought against the beating of her heart, forcing herself to imagine the dimly lit chamber where she had to expect K-2's form to be stretched across the floor.

They arrived with the same abruptness of a ship pulling out of lightspeed, and their breath was forced from their lungs, leaving them gasping for air as they materialized in the hall, to the great surprise of a handful of Stormtroopers stationed there. Cassian's eyes snapped open when his feet found the floor, and adrenaline shot through his veins, steadying him as he took aim and fired upon the stumbling Stormtroopers, still readying their weapons. They fell with dull thuds to the floor, and then he realized he was standing alone. Fear stabbed his gut, and he searched desperately for Rowan, finally finding her in a crumpled heap on the floor at his feet.

"_Rowan_." Her name was almost a cry on his lips, and he knelt quickly beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder and moving her just slightly till she faced him. Her eyes flickered open, her face deathly pale, and she smirked a little, struggling against her resisting limbs, to sit up.

"Told you I could do it," she grunted, her voice barely audible in the echoing halls.

Cassian shook his head in incredulity, a small smile touching his lips. "C'mon," he said, wrapping an arm about her torso and helping her up. She sagged into him, wincing as he did at the pain in his ribs, and they staggered to their feet, breathing heavily. Rowan's head spun, and she squeezed her eyes closed, grimacing at the pounding in her brain, till it and the flashes of color in the dark of her eyelids stopped, and she could now face the world again.

She was met with the sight of K-2's form, stretched across the floor, surrounded by the bodies of Stormtroopers, and her heart sunk more than it had yet. She was sure BoShek could fix him, that he'd be up and running and cracking jokes as he had always been, so long as they could get him out of there. But that was where the difficulty came in. K-2 was far larger than she remembered.

Cassian noticed her fears, feeling the same ones himself deep within. "We can do it," he told her, his voice low.

She nodded, gritting her teeth against the dead exhaustion in her limbs just as he steeled himself against the pain radiating from his broken ribs. Together, they limped forward, unsure of who was supporting whom, of which steps were theirs and which steps were the other's, till they crossed the agonizing distance of three meters to K's form. They wavered there for a moment, till they finally knelt together, as if they were in some strange three-legged race, and looped their free hands beneath K's shoulder joints. Breath coming in short gasps now, they heaved, groaning against the droid's weight, moving steadily backwards to the elevator directly behind them. Rowan could not have said enough prayers of thanks for its proximity, knowing full well she would not have survived another bout of shadow travel, not after healing Cassian.

Cassian reached blindly behind them, fumbling with the elevator buttons when they reached it, till there was a pleasant "bing", and they opened, gently sliding into the walls. They backed slowly into it, pulling K through the doors as far as possible, till only his feet emerged from it. Letting out a sigh, Rowan helped Cassian into a corner, and he leaned gratefully against the walls, his head falling back against the steel as he controlled his breathing, hand placed gently on his ribs, eyes tightly closed. Rowan limped to the droid's feet, pulling them in with grunts of frustration till they were just clear of the doors.

The motion sensors no longer triggered, the doors slid closed, and Rowan found herself immersed in the flickering emergency lights of the elevator, and she remembered that the base was on lockdown. She wondered how their friends were, out on that great battlefield raging about them, in the dirt and the mud, and she was thankful to be here, with Cassian, even if they were both so exhausted that each movement felt as if they were lifting a mountain. She pressed the button for the roof of the tower, hoping beyond hope that Krennic had not gotten to Jyn, and then moved back to Cassian in the dark, slipping her arm back around his torso, readying herself for her next exertion.

Cassian's eyes slid open as she did so, and he moved his arm to wrap back about her in turn. She was breathing heavily; he could feel her heartbeat through her skin, desperate and strong but failing, and he swallowed audibly, pulling her closer to him. There was a repressed sob in her sigh as he did so, and she let her head fall involuntarily back to his chest, the way she had in the data vault, fearing for his life. She longed to say something, but no words came, just a deep pain in her soul: a fear and a heartbreak she dared not explore. Cassian found himself falling forward, settling his chin upon her head, his eyes slipping closed once more as he rested in the moment, rested in her presence, but they were cut off violently by the "bing" of the elevator once more, and a harsh light flooded over them as they reached the roof, the great satellite dish mounted before them.

Thankful, in a strange way, for the momentary distraction from what churned within her heart, Rowan stiffened, Cassian following suit, and they steadied themselves, adrenaline pumping in their veins as the voice of Director Krennic rose loud above the ships that soared about them in the warm tropical skies: "_You_, on the other hand, die with the Rebellion!"

\- - -

Luke followed the large man, whom he now knew to be named Baze, toward the fighting on the landing pad, finding shelter behind the man's massive cannon, relieved he wasn't on the receiving end of the rapid-fire, heavy artillery, plasma bullets. The Stormtroopers were dropping like flies, and he had long since realized his little blaster was of no importance, and now carried it simply for the sake of appearance. He'd like to at least _think_ he was being useful. About him, the remaining rebels they had rescued seemed to have the same thoughts, and he noticed that Melshi, the captain that had signaled to Luke, wore a strange, impressed smirk. Luke found himself mirroring it.

Above them hovered Romulus, covering their backs with his own fire from the U-Wing's guns. Luke could imagine the hard, determined expression the werewolf wore, knowing it was likely the same as the one he'd had in the caves as they fought Polyphemus. His heart sunk at the memory, and the prophecy, recited to him by the image of Rhea, whispered hauntingly through his mind. He knew that his reunion with Rowan would not be as happy as he had hoped. It would be the beginning of something much worse, a new struggle, a new war that they would have to face, and his heart ached for a time of peace. He was glad when Melshi pulled him from his thoughts, gesturing to a transport ship on his left, growing larger as they approached the landing pad at a run.

"He'll be in there!" Melshi cried over the booming of Baze's cannon. "You're gonna have to grab him and get back to your ship as quick as you can! He'll be able to take you to her!"

Luke nodded, squinting to catch a glimpse of the captain's face against the dirt kicked up about the rebel group by the bombs and bullets, not wishing to waste his breath by shouting back.

"We'll cover you!" Melshi added at the end, and gestured for his troops to follow him. They disappeared then, a short line of them, charging to the right of the landing pad, firing with a savage vengeance for their lost compatriots upon the unprepared Stormtroopers. Suddenly, Luke found himself alone with Baze, still following in the man's footsteps as he loped forward to the ship. Above them, Romulus still hovered, but he could not go much further for fear of crashing into the transport ship, and Luke suddenly wished for the company of Clover, but the satyr had elected to remain on board, taking his position at the large guns, firing upon the Stormtroopers with glee that contrasted wildly his brother, Grover, and brought a strange comfort to Luke.

Baze halted at the open gangplank, putting his back to the dim interior, leveling his cannon upon the fighting, his eyes steely, his expression fierce. In two leaps, Luke cleared the gangplank and found himself startled by the silence inside the ship. Before him, a man knelt upon the floor, speaking hurriedly, desperately into a radio.

"We have the plans!" he exclaimed, before shaking the excitement from his voice and rattling off his elaboration. "They- they found the Death Star plans," he explained. "They have to transmit them from the communications tower! You have to take down the shield gate! It's the only way they're going to get them through!"

Through the radio, a voice cracked back, deep and gruff. "Call up a Hammerhead Corvette. I have an idea," it explained to some unseen officer, before re-addressing the pilot. "Standby, Rogue One- we're on it!" The radio's line clicked dead, and the pilot breathed a deep sigh, looking off into the distance, muttering beneath his breath.

"This is for you, Galen," were the words Luke caught before his heavy footsteps startled the pilot, and he stood, looking surprised, fumbling with a blaster at his side. He'd obviously not had much practice, and, for that, Luke was thankful. Quickly, Luke secured his blaster in its holster and held up his hands, signifying he meant no harm, forcing an urgent calm into his expression.

"I'm not Empire," Luke hastily told the pilot, and the man calmed, his features falling from their tense position.

"Who- who are you?" he stuttered, and Luke took a step forward.

"I'm Luke Castellan," he explained, "and I'm looking for my sister. I'm told you know where she is."


	28. Twenty Seven

Rowan and Cassian shot to awareness, straightening as adrenaline forced them to disregard their various hurts and exhaustions. Of one mind, they met each other's eyes, and Rowan nodded Cassian forward, knowing full well he would not be able to handle the heavy droid on his own with his broken ribs. He smiled a small thanks, and limped out of the elevator and into the binding sun, blaster held to the ready before him as his other hand found each and every stable surface it could to steady him as he moved toward Krennic's voice, where he could only assume Jyn was.

Forcing her eyes away from their concerned focus on his figure, disappearing around the great satellite, Rowan knelt down beside the droid, slipping her arms, already bruised from his great weight, beneath his shoulders once more, forcing her breathing to regulate itself. She threw her's and the droid's weight into her legs and heaved him upward as far as she could, blinking against the darkness that swam before her eyes. She hissed as she moved in a circle, wrenching his bulky frame about, till she finally found herself warmed by the sun rays that fell heavily upon her shoulders and blanketed her back, bringing some form of life to her quivering muscles.

With a thought to Cassian, she steeled herself and began to move steadily, slowly backward, each step testing the ground behind her before it planted itself firmly there and she shifted her weight upon her steadily weakening legs. She found herself longing for freer air, out from the tangled landscape of the various protrusions that rose from the citadel's roof, and her movements became jerky, but faster as the desire, the need, drove her onward. Her eyes narrowed, her breath became shallow, and her mind was suddenly absorbed in this great task, before the unmistakeable sound of a blaster going off broke her from her concentration, and K-2 fell with a clang to the steel floor.

She whipped about, limping past the large pillar that barred her view, till she saw Cassian, leaning back, breathing heavily against it, blaster outstretched, smoking, shaking in his hands. Krennic, limp, was stretched across the space before him, and Jyn now hurried about him as Cassian looked to Rowan, a satisfied smile playing across his lips, but Rowan's features simply held unease, and his own expression faltered and fell. The hair-raising warning was back again, and her exhaustion seemed to dissipate a little, heart jumpstarted with a lurking panic.

"What is it?" Cassian's voice was low, but any response she had was cut off by the sound of the great satellite as the programmed voice burst from a hidden speaker, and the two turned to Jyn, standing before it, staring it up and down.

"Transmitting," the computer declared, and Jyn looked to them, her eyes bright, tears glimmering there, her smile relieved. "Transmitting."

Cassian breathed out a small laugh, and his blaster fell to his side, his arms limp. Rowan herself suddenly grinned, and she felt her heart slow, hurting almost as the burning anxiety that had fueled it for so long began to fade and leave it empty, free to rest. Cassian's eyes met hers, and he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, expression soft as he nodded back the direction she'd come.

"Let's get K," he told her, voice still low from the pain of his ribs, "and get out of here."

Rowan placed her hand atop his, turning to face him, her own features seeming to lose an eternity of care as she nodded, biting her lip. She slipped her arm about him once more, and they stood, this time with the strength of peace. Rowan met Jyn's eyes then, and held her gaze, reading in them some form of hope, of satisfaction, that brought a laugh to her heart. She opened her mouth to speak, gesturing Jyn over, but was cut off by a sudden movement to her right.

Horror disfigured Jyn's face as Krennic began to shift upon the floor, crawling forward, clawing his way across it. Cassian raised his blaster, leveling it at the Director, preparing to pull the trigger, but his courage faltered and fell as Krennic began to laugh, a deep, booming, sinister laugh that echoed against the pillars and the satellite, causing the skin on the back of Rowan's neck to crawl. Cassian stumbled against Rowan, recognizing the sound just as she did, and suddenly his vision swam with the mortifying memories of Jakku and the terrifying face there that had peered out at him from the shaggy mane of a lion, hungry and malicious, sizing up its prey.

With a sickening drop in her stomach, Rowan realized the source of all her premonitions, both here and upon Wobani, as Krennic began to rise from his position upon the roof, white cloak covering his shifting, bulging form, till he emerged into the stinging sunlight as nothing other than a manticore, the manticore they had encountered on Jakku all those days ago. Opposite them, on the other side of the manticore, Jyn stumbled backward, grabbing for her blaster, her hands shaking as she leveled it at the creature.

Heart pounding, Rowan slipped her arm from about Cassian, advancing a step forward, calling out with a harsh voice, commanding her sword to form, and gripping tight the hilt as it did, finding comfort in the familiar feel of the leather beneath her scabbed palm as she readied it, moving with increasing speed toward the creature as it turned toward her, her eyes burning and red, focused solely upon the place where its face began to materialize, pulling out of the sun, its eyes cold and laughing, its expression mocking and cruel. Her breaths came short, loud in her ears, the only sound she could register as she fell forward into tunnel vision, raising her blade, muscles rippling as she brought it down.

From behind her, she heard a cry, and was suddenly pulled down by the full weight of Cassian, who had thrown himself upon her, dragging her to the ground. She landed beneath him, her sword thrown from her hand, the breath knocked from her lungs and the fight from her limbs as Cassian scrambled back against the satellite, dragging her with him despite her protests, pinning her arms to her sides as he gestured wildly toward the sky. She froze then, her body stiffening in his arms as she watched with confusion, and in some form of slow motion, an approaching U-Wing, its flight aimed directly at the tower, directly at them.

With a cry of alarm, just realizing the present danger, Jyn dove to cover beside them beneath the satellite's control panel, her blaster jamming itself into Rowan's side, causing her to hiss in pain. Before them, the manticore swung about, its deadly tail now swaying menacingly above them as it faced down the approaching ship. Bronze bullets, real, true bullets, began to pour from where the U-Wing was hidden behind the manticore's great body, and Rowan furrowed her brow in confusion as she recognized the shells that rained down upon their heads, glinting in the sunlight.

Golden ichor began to pour from the manticore's massive body as the bullets thudded into him, and Rowan suddenly moved, straining to get out of Cassian's hold as the ichor ran in streams across the ground and brought her attention back to her sword, lying discarded at the feet of the dying monster, but Cassian's muscles tightened about her.

"Get K," he told her, realizing where her attention was focused, and she nodded, understanding his intentions. He could protect Jyn with the blade, but his injuries would prevent him from being able to move the great weight of the droid. Satisfied, he let her go, and she leapt forward from their shelter, moving low along the citadel's roof till she reached the sword and kicked it back, careful to avoid making contact with the shimmering black blade. She glanced back to see Cassian take hold of it, placing himself warily between the manticore and the still horrified Jyn, readying it, eyes hardened, before she turned back toward the elevator, her heart urging her forward through the maze of pillars, though her legs felt like jelly, till she was met with the sight of the droid.

Without hesitation this time, she knelt, grabbed hold of K's shoulders for what she hoped was the last time, and heaved backward, stumbling back toward the echoing sounds of ricochetting bullets as her feet struggled to catch a foothold beneath her. As she came out from behind the pillar against which Cassian had been leaning only a few moments ago, she glanced toward the U-Wing, and nearly dropped K in shock.

There, standing in the open doorway of the ship's belly, legs planted wide, hair whipped wildly before his face by the engines of the ship and the freedom of the high air, making him unrecognizable, armed to the teeth with a massive machine gun strapped to him, looking like it had come straight from a history museum on WWI, was a satyr. Her eyes flashed in confusion, her heart pounded in a strange combination of hope and dread, and she ripped her gaze from the sight, back to the droid sagging in her arms.

Wincing at each bullet shell that bounced near, she struggled backward toward Cassian, who hollered an order for Jyn to help her and was backing toward her even as Jyn leapt to her aid, sword still outstretched, muscles tense as adrenaline poured into his veins and his eyes flashed. The weight of the droid halved with Jyn's help, and together, they began to move down the long protruding ramp from the roof, following the wild gestures of Baze, who had suddenly appeared, leaping from the ship that had now stabilized at the end of the ramp, their only salvation.

Forcing down the questions that bubbled to life and the incredulity that sent her mind reeling, Rowan tried not to focus on the increasingly mad events that she seemed to be inescapably plunging into, and she threw her legs into the fight to move K's body past the manticore still struggling against the endless bullets and down the precariously hanging ramp. At K's feet, moving with a wary haste, Cassian glanced between them and the manticore, sword still leveled at the monster, eyes fierce.

At the sight of his escaping prey, the manticore roared and leapt, fighting against the tide of Celestial Bronze, its face an agonizing contortion of pain and anger that startled Cassian despite his hardened mind, and caused him to stumble backward, but he quickly readjusted his footing and his expression steeled, his eyes burning, his lips a slight sneer.

Rowan was startled out of her close watch of the manticore by the sudden appearance of Baze at her side, pushing her a little to the left, wrapping his tree-trunk arms about the waist of the droid and heaving him with a roar into the U-Wing, causing Jyn to duck and the satyr to cry out in alarm, leaping over the clumsy steel legs that nearly took his out from under him. The momentary pause in the thunderous rattle of bullets that punctuated the dull roar of the engines gave the manticore all the time he needed, and he leapt, claws outstretched, toward Cassian, eyes a furious red.

In slow motion, the monster descended, and Rowan cried out, leaping forward to Cassian's aid, buffeted from all directions by the wind, but he stood his ground, and in a swift movement, he knelt beneath the descending mass of the creature, lifted high the blade, and plunged it into the vulnerable flesh above his heart. With a concentrated expression, he slipped from beneath the weight of the beast, hand still firmly gripping the hilt, and jerked the blade up and out of howling manticore, stumbling backward against the railing of the ramp, breathing heavily.

The manticore fell, leaden, upon the ramp, and there was a crack of steel breaking, the ramp shifting dangerously beneath their feet, the already damaged metalworks failing finally at this new blow. Alarm flashing in Cassian's eyes, he turned and made a mad dash toward the ship, following Rowan as she leapt from the falling ramp and into the dim interior, her legs nearly crumpling beneath her at the impact, and she grunted with the effort of keeping her feet, whipping about, and reaching desperately for Cassian as he, too, threw himself from the ramp.

In a desperate, fumbling moment, their hands met, slick with sweat and blood, and Jyn, watching in a heap on the floor from where Baze had grabbed and thrown her, held bated breath, heartbeats loud, till Cassian's and Rowan's grips latched hold, firm and unbroken, and Rowan was hoisted high off the ground, Cassian following, by Baze, and Cassian's face paled in surprise as they were dropped upon their feet, and sent tumbling into the benches that lined the center of the ship in a strange, hasty embrace.

Still breathing heavily, they did not move from their huddled position as they watched the ramp fall away, down toward the surface of the planet several stories below, and the door slammed shut, immersing them in a silence and darkness that contrasted wildly the explosive noise and brilliant sunlight they had just been exposed to and, for that, felt almost the more loud and blinding.

Suddenly, Rowan began to laugh, deep, booming laughs that broke loose from her gut and seemed to break the silence like a thunderclap, rocking her body violently till she was forced to squeeze her eyes shut, pressing tears from the corners of them, gripping her stomach, keeled over. Cassian watched her, horror spasming across his face, till it faded into some strange, incredulous smile, and he breathed his own laugh, his hand falling upon her shoulder, rubbing circles into her back. The madness of her laughter faded then, and she was finally able to break off, sucking in deep breaths and attempting to straighten, wiping the tears that streamed from her eyes.

"We did it," she choked out, still gasping for breath, finally meeting Cassian's eyes, grinning brilliantly.

He mimicked her expression, and nodded, breathing out, "yeah we did," his eyes sparkling.

And then Rowan remembered their strange rescue, pulling her eyes from his and glancing about the ship's belly, taking in the faces, familiar and new, pondering them. Jyn was there, eyes closed, breathing deeply in relief, and Bohdi, who stood in the entrance to the cockpit, leaning against the wall, smeared in grease and grime, and Baze, who stood beside Chirrut, resting on a bench against the wall, a satisfied grin beneath his white eyes, and the satyr, who was glancing between her and some other figure to her left, brows furrowed in some strange anticipation. Curious, she followed his gaze, till her eyes met those of a face so profoundly familiar to her that she gasped, and felt her heart pang and burn within her, and she started to her feet, to the concern of Cassian beside her, whose hand abruptly fell from her shoulder to the seat.

The figure standing before her, barely lit in the dim blue glow of the ship, hand on a sword sheathed firmly at his side, features accented by a long white scar running down his face, was Luke, and Rowan stumbled a step forward, a wild rage of emotions roaring through her heart as she fumbled with the world about her, her mind threatening to cut itself loose, her vision a tunnel to the face she had always known.

"You," she choked, and her hand lifted itself slowly from her side, moving of its own accord gently to her brother, till her expression suddenly changed, her eyes flashed, her heart burned within her, and she smacked him.

The sickening crack of flesh against flesh rang out in the dead silence of the ship, but Luke did not react, simply letting this head hang, accepting the blow he knew he deserved, his expression still, unchanged, composed as it could be. Rowan let her hand fall to her side, breathing heavily, her eyes fiery, her lips parted as she wrestled for control of the air that flowed in and out of her lungs, her eyes stinging wildly with tears, her throat closing.

An eternity seemed to pass in the belly of the ship, each face of each inhabitant tightened with anticipation, looking between the siblings with rapid-fire curiosity. His breath coming slow, Luke finally risked a glance toward his sister, raising his head slowly, timidly, till his eyes met her, and his expression was suddenly filled with a profound sorrow and a profound hope. It was the same expression they'd held when he'd seen her for the first time upon the citadel roof, smiling beside the man that now perched upon the U-Wing's bench, but it had been replaced by a deep agitation and dread when they'd hauled her into the ship, waiting for the inevitable recognition she would have, wishing he could have been anywhere but there to face the great guilt of his own abandonment.

But her anger seemed to dissipate when her eyes met his, and with a choking sob, she threw herself at him, and all his defenses fell with a crash to his feet as they embraced for the first time in what seemed forever. It lasted just a moment, before she pulled away abruptly, and his hands fell, swinging with momentum, to his sides.

"Where have you been?" she begged, her voice broken with random laughs and the occasional wiping of tears. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Coruscant," Luke told her, glancing to Clover, and then suddenly remembering all that had happened between now and then. His face fell, bringing a dreadful end to the questions that burned in Rowan's chest. Her heart sunk as he spoke again. "Rowan," he breathed heavily against the fear churning in his gut. "There's been another prophecy."

Rowan swallowed, taking a step back, steeling herself. "What does that mean?" She glanced quickly to Cassian even as Luke did, and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it concerned him. She looked back to Luke as he looked to her, and their eyes met, and she knew the answer even before it left his lips.

"It means we're going home."


	29. Twenty Eight

The chill gusts of wind rolled violently off the sea waves, turned an ashen grey by the ominous and stormy clouds above, and buffeted the large group of men and women huddled together and shivering upon the beach. Typhon was drawing near. Faces, pale and thin, eyes bloodshot, all turned upon two figures in the center, a man and a woman, arms thrown about various others in tight, sobbing embraces. Leo and Calypso were bidding farewell to their close friends, their family, and despite the fate that awaited them, their expressions were calm, their eyes firm, and it was those who found themselves forced to remain upon the beach that were ravaged with overwhelming sorrow.

It seemed no time at all had passed as their final mission approached and they turned to the last member of the group, standing on the edge, fists clenching and unclenching as his eyes bored into the sand, fighting hard against the bloodshot red of eyes stinging madly with tears. He only raised his head when the voices before him faded to the haunting, hollow wind. The group seemed to part before him, revealing Leo and Calypso, hands clasped, eyes kind, old, as they fell upon their friend.

Percy broke, and Leo did too, and they embraced then, Percy holding as tightly to his friend as he could, begging him in a broken, sobbing voice to stay, but Leo's eyes were sad, fixed upon Festus before him, steaming in the cold air, watching the group with large, amber eyes.

"Don't go," Percy choked, and Leo tightened his hold one more time, before he let him loose, standing back, eyes searching his friend's.

"I have to," he answered simply as Calypso came to stand beside him.

She placed a soft hand on Leo's shoulder, looked up to him with a sad smile, then back to Percy, her hand slipping from Leo as she moved forward, taking the slouching, despairing Percy into her arms, stroking kindly the tangled black hair as Percy sobbed into her shoulder. Leo's brow furrowed as the wind picked up; behind him, whispers rippled through the crowd, and he turned to the grey and violent sea to see Typhon's terrible form, like a gigantic tornado, roaring high, drawing dangerously close. Percy himself sensed the change and looked up as Calypso loosed him. His eyes met Leo's, and a shared dread ran between them. Calypso sucked in a deep breath, and muttered the words they were all thinking.

"Time to go."

Leo's eyes fell to her, and he nodded, his face hardening. Percy forced himself to still, repressing the wretched sorrow that still churned within. He took one step aside, forcing his head high. Leo held out a single hand, barely shaking, and took Percy's in one last, firm handshake.

"See you on the other side, mate," he nodded, his lips pressed together, before he dropped Percy's hand, the man simply grunting, not trusting his voice. Leo turned back to Calypso, took her hand once more, and together, they advanced toward Festus, growing antsy beneath the pier, glancing continuously at Typhon, then to the sky.

Leo heaved himself high upon the dragon, hissing a little at the heat of Festus's body compared to the chill in his limbs from the raging, mourning winds. He felt Calypso's arm slip about his waist then as she leapt nimbly behind him, and he relaxed into the familiar, comforting embrace of her warmth.

"You ready?" she asked, her voice low in his ear.

Words failing, he simply nodded and commanded Festus forward.

\- - -

"I stayed with Maz Kanata for a time," Luke said lowly. About them rested the sleeping forms of Baze, Jyn, and Chirrut, overcome with exhaustion at the battle they'd barely escaped from. Rowan stood with him and the satyr, whom she now knew to be named Clover, beside the U-Wing's door. She looked up to him, concern flashing in her eyes.

"Is that where you heard the prophecy?"

Luke nodded, eyes darkening at the mention.

Understanding flashed in Rowan's expression. "I couldn't get into it," she told him, cutting him off as he opened his mouth to speak. He redirected his thoughts.

"What do you mean?" He cocked his head.

"The room," she clarified. "I couldn't get into it. I tried, but it wouldn't let me."

Luke tasted this new information upon his tongue, processing it slowly, realizing the implications it meant for him. His brow furrowed. He realized Maz had said something akin to that when he'd gone to find her, but in his hurry to get to Rowan, he'd bypassed the comment.

"It means it's for you," she pressed, a sudden smile flashing over her lips, nostalgia piercing her heart. "Like in the old days. For a specific hero."

Luke flinched perceptibly at the term. "I don't know if that's what we should go by," he muttered, and Rowan simply frowned in response, shaking her head slightly in concerned protest. "But she gave me something of yours," Luke continued, fishing within his shirt for the familiar feel of the cold chain, before drawing from about his neck an oddly-shaped necklace, ornamented with small, shiny pieces of what Clover could only term as trash, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Rowan's eyes seemed to tighten a little at the corners, a profound sorrow and loss stinging in them as she met Luke's gaze, kind and gentle, but no less emotional.

"Keep it," she told him, waving it back, her voice tight, forcing down the ball in her throat. "I made it for you. It's why I left it with Maz."

Luke's expression read a profound gratitude, his eyes lost in memory just as she was, to their days on the streets, together, fighting each obstacle and monster with a determined glee, innocent and free of the troubles that soon swallowed them. He cleared his throat, slipping the necklace about his neck, forcing his mind to more pressing matters.

"Do you know what we're getting into?" he asked, his lips tightening grimly.

Rowan shook her head, and began to recount all that she had learned of the war brewing beneath them on her journeys with Cassian. Their mumbled conversation sunk lower and lower with each passing comment, till all Cassian caught, standing up beside Morpheus, whom he recognized, and Romulus, whom he had just met, in the cockpit, watching the navigational screen with a growing wonder as they sped beyond everything he'd ever known. Occasionally, he'd glance back to Rowan, catch her glances toward him, smile reassuringly, though he wondered whether or not he was reassuring himself more. The smile was always returned, however, and he found his heart warming a little, rising to meet the fears that formed within him, and he would return to watching the screen and the universe outside with a renewed courage.

He tried not to focus on the life he'd left behind, the planet, the fears of what had happened after they'd fired off into lightspeed, directly from the ramp and their battle with the manticore. He hoped beyond hope that the Rebellion had gotten the plans, that they were now formulating some attempt to take down the Empire and its terrible weapon, and he promised himself that he'd return once his battle here was over. It was the only comfort he could rest in, and he embraced it as Romulus muttered in his growling voice that they were nearing their destination. Nodding, Cassian straightened, and picked his way through the sleeping forms of his companions to Rowan, Luke, and the strange creature called a satyr, named Clover.

Rowan brightened a little when he arrived, and he met her eyes momentarily. She faltered when she saw the troubled expression there.

"We're almost there," he told them, then looked to Rowan, pausing. "But you were exiled; what does that mean?"

Rowan's face fell as she remembered the mark burned into her palm. In the heat of battle, she'd forgotten its existence, but at the thought, the despair seemed to settle into her bones, and she wondered how such a fate could have slipped her mind. Her thoughts then turned to Romulus, and as if the werewolf could sense the turn the conversation had taken, his ears twitched, and he glanced backward. She realized he had already made peace with his fate, and an expectant look upon his features gave her the sense that he was waiting for her to.

"You were exiled?" Luke's voice was low in dread, and his eyes fell from scrutinizing Cassian's face to hers. She looked back at him, her hand falling to Cassian's forearm, a wordless thanks for his reminder despite the hopelessness it brought her.

She nodded in response to Luke's question, lifting her palm and revealing the mark there, dark against the pale and calloused skin of her palms. "Octavian," she told him, and his expression darkened.

"But what does it mean?" Cassian interjected, looking to Rowan with hard eyes.

She shrugged, swallowing hard against the ball in her throat. "It means I die," she told him, and he blanched.

\- - -

Jason woke to darkness. The small, hour-long respite after thirty-some hours of fighting was over, and not much had changed. Grimacing, gripping his side, where the faithful, if clumsy, venti he'd named Stormfly had thrown him into the condensed air of their small tent, he stood. Far below the battle that raged high above, him and his troops had been sent to play containment, pushing back any of Ouranos' forces that broke loose from Zeus' and the Winds' defense. It was messy work, and he'd lost ground, though not as badly as Zeus had.

With a groan, he slipped out of the cot to the clouded floor beneath him, darkness swirling about his eyes for a moment as he struggled to regain focus, steadying himself against the rack of armor beside him. He wished he was high above, with his father. The loneliness of his outpost here was almost more than he could bear, his ears ringing, day and night, with the battle he was helpless to effect high above. Stumbling a little away from the cot, he moved to his sword, leaning against the tent pole, and took it up, strapping it with fumbling fingers to his belt before he sucked in a deep breath, steeled himself, and advanced outside. Stormfly waited in the company of a few more venti, each with exhausted features and burning eyes.

One of them hurried toward him from a small group clustered about a new venti, this one looking singed and desperate.

"Sir," the approaching venti called, waving a hand to catch Jason's attention.

From his position beside Stormfly, hand upon his mane, ready to hoist himself upon his back, Jason froze and gave his attention to the venti.

"We've just received news, sir," he rattled off breathlessly, and Jason nodded, urging him to continue, glancing upon the singed venti with concern. Their eyes met, and he read there a hopelessness he would rather have not seen before he wrenched his eyes back. "Krios is loose, sir. He's got a force moving this way, and Boreus doesn't have the fighters to pursue him. We're on our own."

Jason forced down a sigh, knowing full well not to instill hopelessness in his ragtag troop. "Is Krios himself coming?" he asked, hoping beyond hope for an answer that would lessen the sinking dread in his gut.

"No, sir," the answer came from the singed venti, limping forward, away from the others that tended to him.

Jason nodded his thanks, and his respect, before gesturing to his tent. "Rest there," he commanded, his heart softening for the spirit. "You've done enough."

The venti inclined his head, dignity limiting what gratitude he could show, before he limped into the tent, followed by a few more spirits that bore what clinical materials they still had. Jason watched them go, postponing as much as he could the meeting of his troop's eyes. When he turned back, they were all standing, dead silent, gazes fixed like lightning bolts upon his face, reading it for some sign. Above them, distant but loud, came the roar of battle, filtered down to them.

Jason steeled his face. "Prepare yourselves," he commanded. "This is one we can win," he promised, "And we'll regain some ground."

There were a few half-hearted cheers. He couldn't blame them. They'd been stuck here, fighting this battle, for weeks on end, and each hour brought only heartache and despair. They were facing an opponent old as time, and the odds seemed impossibly stacked against them, but hope was their only option, and so he forced it into his eyes, pulling himself high upon upon Stormfly, staring his troops in the face, instilling what confidence he could into them.

As one, they moved forward, eyes fixed upon the spreading, foggy movement of something that appeared to be cloud down toward them: Krios' advance. As they drew closer, Jason pulled his sword from his sheath, the Imperial Gold glinting coldly in the chill air, and he urged Stormfly through his troops, muscles tensed and ready, prepared to lead the charge. He glanced back to his men, met their eyes, a shared, but exhausted respect lingering there, before, with a breath that left his lungs, seeming amplified in the still air, he rose to meet the approaching challenge.

In something of a blur, they moved forward, meeting head on the troops of Krios. All the world, time itself, seemed to still as the distance between them lessened and lessened. Jason focused only upon his heartbeat, forcing it to still as he raised his blade high in the air, and with a cry, brought it down upon the first of Krios's venti. With a shriek, the creature dissipated into the cold air, and all noise came rushing back to his ears like a great cacophony. The battle had begun; he could only pray that it would end in their victory.

The fighting pushed him to the perimeter of the battle, where he suddenly found himself side-by-side with one of his commanding venti. The spirit looked to him, grinning wildly, the light of battle flaming in his eyes, greeting Jason with a nod. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a war cry before them, and together they turned to the small mass of venti that charged them, and rushing forward into battle, leaving Jason with a lingering sense of curiosity. Despite their great help, Jason found himself unsettled fighting alongside the spirits. They were fast, flighty, deadly, but unnerving in their bloodlust. He longed to be beside his fellows below, remembering with fondness now their battles upon Earth.

They sliced through the venti easily, for this group was small and weak, lurking on the edges of the battlefield only to pick off those of their troops that had lost their fire, and then found themselves immersed in a strange silence, so far removed were they from the fighting nearby.

"I suppose our allies have lost hope," the venti told Jason, moving forward, his grin losing its luster, falling into a confused frown. Jason cocked his head, confused, but the venti simply gestured downward in elaboration, and Jason's gaze fell to where the venti pointed.

His heart dropped as he did so, and a great helplessness filled him as he beheld the sight he never thought he would have. It was Festus, the great metal dragon climbing agonizingly higher and higher through the atmosphere toward them, two small silhouettes of figures upon his back. He knew then that they had lost, and the realization numbed him. Eyes empty, Jason looked to the venti.

"We're not retreating," Jason told him, his features hardening, for they both knew full well the implications of what they had seen. The venti simply inclined his head, eyes grave and cold, and turned, moving off toward the battle.

Alone, Jason watched the dragon's approach, steeling his expression. He had feared this; when their defenses had failed a few days ago, and their communications cut off, he'd worried, though it verged more on a dreaded expectation, that his fellows on Earth would assume the worst, for they had no other choice but to do so. Yet he had never expected the simple calm inside of him. He could not react in panic; he could only accept the fate that now lay before him, and with that revelation, he turned back to the battle, urging Stormfly into the fray, readying his sword.

He moved quickly, intentionally, for a group of venti on the outskirts of the battle, preying upon a few of his men, hemmed in on all sides, and raised his blade as his vision tunneled and he neared them. In a breath, he broke through their lines, scattering them, sending them rolling back in reaction, before they discovered their assailant to be one in number, and promptly flowed back, eyes burning. Jason steeled himself, felt a snarl form on his lips, and threw himself into battle, hacking and spearing as he maneuvered Stormfly through the horde.

His venti followed his lead, their strength and courage renewed, forming a spearhead behind him, moving through their opponents now with vigor and speed till they broke loose, looking out upon the battlefield before them, heaving with the effort of their fight, till all their movements stopped, and they froze in disbelief and terror.

Before them, descending from on high with fury, was Krios himself. He'd broken through Boreus' lines, a massive titan with icy skin storming through the troops of both sides, eyes blue, cold, and dead, fixed with a maddened rage upon Jason, his steps carrying him easily toward the demigod through the raging tides of battle, his sword, tremendously large and deadly, raised on high for a killing blow. Jason met his gaze, his own steeling, hardening, burning with an intense, reckless determination as he readied his own blade, daring the titan forward, knowing they were lost either way. It was either the frigid steel of Krios' blade or the inferno of the Greek Fire borne aloft, directly for them, by Festus, and with that revelation, Jason urged Stormfly into a fey charge across the battlefield, closing the distance between himself and the titan.

Suddenly, Stormfly veered violently to the right, throwing Jason off balance in the saddle, forcing him to grip hold of the electric mane, hanging off the venti and scrambling for a foothold. A bang like a gunshot cracked through the air, and Jason's eyes shot to where the titan charged, undaunted, only to watch with a strange horror its head broken by the sudden appearance of a massive object that fell through the air, a fiery, burning deadweight. As it collided with Krios, the fire dissipated, extinguished with a hiss and a profusion of steam, and revealed itself to be something like a spaceship, battered and worn, and wildly unfamiliar to Jason.

He paused in his attempts to regain control of Stormfly, still running madly about the battlefield, his brow furrowed in confusion, his heart pounding till he regained awareness, and pulled himself upon the back of the venti with a great heave, directing the spirit toward the spaceship, now hovering in the open air. A door on its side was suddenly flung open, and there appeared a face Jason had, of all the faces he'd ever known, least expected to see. It was Luke Castellan.

The man scanned the battlefield, hair whipped about his face by the strength of the engines and the free air of the high atmosphere till he met Jason's eyes from across the battlefield, and then began to gesture him madly toward the ship, eyes wildly alight with both hope and anxiety.

"Bring ambrosia!" Jason caught roared over the wind as he approached at a gallop. "Rowan's dying!"


	30. Twenty Nine

Rowan grew increasingly pale as they drew ever nearer to Earth, now supported by Cassian as he helped her to the bench at the center of the U-Wing and rested her weakening frame against himself and the seat, his brow furrowed, his heart pounding. The world was beginning to swim about her eyes, her vision darkening ever so slightly with each jostle of the ship till she forced them closed, a grimace disfiguring her face. Breathless, Cassian pulled her close, squeezing her arm, looking to Romulus, who hovered over her now, his own face pale.

"What happens to you?" Cassian asked, feeling a strong admiration for the werewolf, for the solemn gravity of his presence, harrowed but hopeful, recognizing in him the regret he knew in himself.

Romulus' eyes fell to Cassian's. "I will face death, too," he explained, "but not yet. Returning to Earth simply strips me of my immortality. Rowan does not have that protection. She must face death now."

Cassian's eyes hardened. "What do we do?"

"Zeus can pardon her offenses, should he choose to do so," Romulus answered. "Until then, we'll need ambrosia." He looked Cassian up and down. "You'll need some too," he noted, and Cassian suddenly remembered his ribs. In the breathless relief of escaping impending doom and then the profound dread of Rowan's fate, he'd forgotten the grating pain in his side. At the memory, he winced, and wished the werewolf hadn't reminded him. He glanced up, nodding in understanding.

"We don't know what we're getting into," Morpheus interrupted from the cockpit, standing and moving back toward them, leaving Clover in control of the ship, a decision that Jyn, from the corner, didn't think to be so wise. She'd been silent the entire trip, steadily taking in the world about her that seemed at once familiar and strange, as if from some distant memory. She'd met Luke's eyes only once, and then had glanced quickly away, but now watched him, seated beside his sister, eyes scanning Romulus' expression. She was drawn to him somehow, in the same way that she was drawn to the white-haired, robed figure now advancing toward the bench, though his eyes took in the faces of each and every passenger on the ship, lingering curiously upon Bohdi's face.

The pilot had grown somewhat pale, and kept shaking his head, as if to rid himself of a nagging thought, and Jyn's eyes narrowed in concern. She moved closer to him, placing a warm, comforting hand upon his shoulder, looking into his face. He flashed her a smile, but it was uncertain, dazed, not at all convincing. She'd known Bor Gullet to cause madness, but had never seen it set in this late. To her left, she glanced over to see Baze, a single hand resting protectively upon the frame of K-2, his eyes, old and wise, taking in the proceedings meditatively. Resting beside him, a tension in his figure, Chirrut's ears perked at the sound of Morpheus' voice.

"Be prepared for anything," the god told them, focusing his gaze upon Rowan and Cassian. He remembered them upon Coruscant, and it pained him to think that they had suffered so much in such a short period. He read it in Cassian's eyes, old despite his youth, and in Rowan's features, worn and hardened. He wished then that he had not given them the location of the agent in the Ring of Kafrene, that he'd taken them in, cared for them the way he ought to have been able to care for his own daughter. But that time had been lost, and despite the wounds Rowan and Cassian had suffered, he knew that it was the price they would have had to pay to save the lives of millions.

Luke met the god's eyes and nodded simply in response, standing and unsheathing Backbiter, placing himself somewhere between the cockpit, where he could catch a glimpse of Earth, and the ship's door, where he could leap out if necessary. He kept his eyes fixed on the world outside, gaze boring through the glass at the head of the ship, at the lights that streaked past, waiting with bated breath for Earth to come within full view. He glanced back to Rowan; she'd sunk even farther into the arms of Cassian. In a horrific way, Luke realized the exile burning like poison in her veins was measuring the distance to Earth for him, and he pulled his eyes away from the sight, back to the window.

They pulled out of lightspeed abruptly, and Luke stumbled forward into Romulus, who had placed himself, leaning a little, beside the wall, his eyes squeezed tight against some pounding headache, his hand gripping firmly his sword of Imperial Gold, though Luke noticed some strength had left his fingers, and the sword hung a little looser than he knew the werewolf intended. He glanced about the ship, taking in its inhabitants. The effects of the exile setting in ruled both Rowan and Romulus out as fighters. With Clover manning the ship, they lost yet another, and with Cassian's broken ribs, he feared they were down four. Morpheus' eyes were grave. He'd realized it, too.

"That's not good." The comment came from the cockpit, and Luke risked a step toward Clover, who'd spoken, eyes transfixed on the planet below. Morpheus had paled at the sight, and even Luke seemed to lose a little color.

Below them, not an inch of Earth's surface was visible, hidden by massive, swirling, angry clouds that churned and roiled, a harsh black beneath the sun's rays. Luke looked to Morpheus, and the god turned back to the passengers.

"Ouranos' attack has begun," Morpheus explained. Romulus' eyes flickered open, and he stumbled to the cockpit, leaning heavily against the seats, peering through the glass.

"What does that mean?" The question came from behind Luke, and he turned, momentarily confused by the unfamiliar voice, before he recognized Jyn, who'd stood, hand placed firmly upon her blaster, her eyes searching his. His brow furrowed in something akin to confusion as he registered her presence, taking her in, he believed, for the first time as something more than a companion of his sister; he fumbled with his thoughts.

Behind him, it was Romulus that answered, taking Luke's silence for ignorance.

"It means we're flying blind," the werewolf told her, looking back over his shoulder and meeting her eyes. "When we break through the atmosphere, we'll be going at too high of a velocity for Ouranos' forces to do much harm to us, but when we land, we'll need to be prepared. We don't know what the surface looks like." He dared not entertain the dreaded possibility that they had no allies left to greet them, but by the looks of the storm clouds below, he could hope, in an ironic way, that they were about to descend into some great battle. With a glance to Rowan, he hoped Zeus himself was there. He forced his eyes back to the rest of the ship, holding each of their gazes, his own heavy. "I suggest you prepare your weapons."

Wordlessly, they each followed his example, even Cassian, who shifted Rowan's weight from his arms, lowering her into the seat as he stood, pulling from his boot a Celestial Bronze knife, from his holster a well-worn blaster. Luke nodded at this, stepping a little to the side to allow the titan's son room, eyeing him with something like respect, a shared understanding. Cassian himself felt it, like an undercurrent between them, the burden of Kronos, and Cassian's eyes darkened a little at the remembrance.

About them, the others readied themselves as much as they could, and with a twinge of uncertainty, Cassian noted that none of their weapons would be at all potent against the monsters of Earth. Though he was happy they were here, some remnant of the familiar, he hoped he had not led them into danger. Their escape from Scarif, their great urgency to return to Earth, had not allowed a moment's time to get them home. Not, he realized with a start, that the Rebellion was any of their homes. There was something comforting about the revelation; they were, in a way, without pasts. The future was theirs to make.

The thoughts were knocked from his mind as the ship lurched forward, jerking in small gasps toward the planet's atmosphere. The toll lightspeed had taken upon the ship's engines was catching up to them, but Clover seemed undaunted, letting out a small growl as he slammed his fist into the dashboard, sending up sparks.

"Let's go!" he roared, and the ship seemed to explode to life, now barreling straight toward Earth's atmosphere, leaving Cassian with no time to think on the world he was soon to be immersed in. Meeting Luke's eyes, finding comfort in the strange familiarity of them, he steadied himself, swallowing past the pain in his ribs, and readied his knife and blaster.

Behind them, still processing the world about her, Jyn watched the wall of cloud grow steadily closer till it consumed all her vision, and she waited, cringing, for an impact she knew would not come. A bead of sweat trickled down her spine as she felt the ship beginning to heat up. She looked to Luke, confused, but his expression of hardened determination had not changed. Evidently, this was to be expected with re-entry into Earth's atmosphere, but that did not mitigate the horror that spasmed across her face when she noticed that the ship itself had caught fire. It streamed past the front window as they picked up speed, moving faster and faster and faster, the light of the flames spanning the ship's exterior and the shadow of the clouds below adding to the dizzying impression.

A groan came from her right, and she turned, jerking her eyes away from the madness through the window. The dim lights of the ship's interior, flickering with the effort of re-entry, illuminated Rowan's features, contorted in pain and pale with effort. She was feverish, her cheeks seeming to suddenly have lost most of their fullness, now sunken and hollow, her brow beaded in sweat, eyes pinched shut against some ravaging fire in her veins. Jyn looked to Luke, who'd almost fallen from his feet to Rowan's side, placing a shaking hand upon her brow, examining her face with a practiced, and fearful eye. Standing over them, Cassian swayed, gripping his side, his own expression tight with anxiety.

"She's burning up." Luke looked to Romulus, and the werewolf nodded gravely.

"Until we can find ambrosia, she's on her own." His eyes were cold and hard, fear hidden deep within the depths. Cassian met the werewolf's gaze, a resolution building in his own.

"Then we find ambrosia," he said simply. The declaration left no room for the anxiety churning between each and every one of them, not solely about Rowan's condition, for the lingering fear of the state of the planet beneath them hovered there, too.

Clover's voice came from the cockpit, strained and fiery. "Mates, you might want to hold onto something," he called, and they looked to the satyr, now seeing his struggle with the steering mechanisms as he did his best to wrest them into cooperation, sweat pouring from his brow, his expression a concentrated glare at the fuel light upon the dashboard and the swirling clouds of the planet below.

"Help him," Luke suddenly commanded from behind Cassian, straightening from his sister's side. "If there are survivors, they'll recognize me more than you," the demigod elaborated at Cassian's frown. "You can pilot these things much better than I, and you're wounded."

Cassian wrestled with his hesitancy for a moment, before finally wrenching his eyes from Rowan's form, where they'd fallen, now moving to the cockpit, a slight limp to his gait. He wished they'd stop reminding him of his ribs, which seemed to hurt tenfold with every mention. As he slid into the seat at the cockpit, he glanced back to the others gathered there, and swallowed, promising himself that they'd make it out of this alive, that _all of them_ would make it out alive. He resisted the urge to let his gaze fall to Rowan, resisted the nagging realization of the heavy weight of the amulet about his neck.

"Alright," he sighed, and Clover glanced up momentarily, nodding his greeting, before letting his bloodshot eyes fall back to the planet.

"There's no landing pattern we need to follow," Clover told him, forcing the words between gritted teeth, and Cassian nodded his response, steeling himself for the turbulent barreling through the cloud cover beneath them. They came fast, and he fought against the growing wince in his muscles, keeping his eyes wide and intent on the planet, steadying himself despite the wild rattling of the ship, blocking out any doubts about the shape of the ship for fear they might come true and leave them stranded in space.

The clouds grew closer and closer, and Cassian's heart began to pound harder and harder, sweat pouring from him and coating his limbs, and just as they reached it, he wondered what, exactly, it would be like to burst through the powers of the protogenos of the sky, but the thought was smashed into nonexistence even as they smashed through the clouds like a bullet, searing a burning, hot line through the black, and the engines gave out with an explosion that plunged the inside of the ship into a confused and maddening darkness, illuminated only by the flames still rippling off the sides of the ship past the window.

In a jerking shift of motion, Clover and Cassian found themselves pulling back against the acceleration levers, Clover now letting out a stream of what could only be curses in some ancient language, their faces contorted in pain, fear, and horror when the ship would not respond to their commands.

"We're coming in hot!" Cassian roared to the back, then whipped about, searching with red eyes for Bohdi, the pilot's figure curled upon the floor of the ship, seemingly unaware of the world about him, his eyes lost in a fog. "Bohdi! I need you!"

At his name, the pilot looked up, shot to his feet, and hurried to the cockpit, slipping through the shivering, shaking ship, grabbing hold of what he could to steady his frantic approach. Not much attention was paid to him, for Luke and Romulus now stood, side-by-side before the window, muscles straining against the ship's wild movements so that they might counter whatever attack they experienced without hesitation. Behind them, Jyn held her blaster readied beside Baze and Chirrut, the companions side-by-side. Chirrut only inclined his ear toward Bohdi when he began to move, but suddenly leapt backward at the grating sound of K-2's form sliding across the floor, planting his staff into the mangled pile, anchoring it against the ground. As they'd slammed into the clouds, Rowan had let out a cry, harsh and loud, and convulsed to the floor, where Morpheus now knelt beside her, steadying her and himself with the bench, fumbling with an amulet about his neck, muttering incantations beneath his breath.

"Can you fix it?" Cassian shouted as Bohdi neared, his voice breaking high and loud over the rattling clatter of the ship.

Bohdi fumbled with his answer. "I- I can try!" he returned, slipping past Cassian, who was struggling to raise himself from the seat, grabbing hold of what was nearest to pull himself up. As he straightened, Bohdi fell into the seat and his hands began to fly about the dashboard, muttering something Clover, beside him, could barely catch, his ears ringing with the cacophony of noise, recognizing only the words "back-up engine somewhere".

Cassian stumbled back to the ship's belly, eyes fixed upon Rowan's form, writhing beneath the cares of Morpheus, tunnel-vision guiding his steps till blinding light flooded the ship, and he faltered, falling back a step or so, steadied by the wall he smacked against, squeezing his eyes closed to fight against the searing, pale light. All about him, the others seemed to do the same, working hard to regain their composure, hissing in pain. He breathed heavily, forced himself to squint till he adjusted; he resumed his efforts, for Rowan had grown paler in the new light, heavy, dark lines beneath her eyes, her cheeks nearly transparent. She was holding tight her marked palm to her chest, the fist balled, nails drawing blood from her skin.

But once again, he was thrown off his feet, now falling forward into Morpheus with a curse as pain exploded from his ribs and the god struggled to catch him, leaving for a moment his attentions to Rowan. As Cassian lay, panting, supported just barely by the god, he realized with growing anticipation that the reason for his fall was that the ship had stopped suddenly and was now hovering high above the Earth. As the back-up engines started, now running quietly and gently, the blue lights of the ship soft against the pale light from outside, Cassian felt as if he'd fallen into a wholly different world. All seemed still and silent; even Rowan's protestations against the poison in her veins seemed muted, and Cassian forced himself to breathe deep, looking slowly up to where Luke peered outside the window, pulling himself from where he'd fallen against the door.

"Clover," the demigod said in a barely trembling voice, "Open the door."

Without a second thought, the satyr obeyed, and the door to the ship's belly slid open, and Cassian struggled to his feet at the sight outdoors. They hovered high in the air; far, far below, an ocean glittered, cold and turbulent, but at their level, hundreds upon thousands of strange, ethereal figures were engaged in a combat upon thin air, the battle stretching through the atmosphere as far as the eye could see, blanketed high above the surface.


	31. Thirty

Jason hurried into the ship following Luke's call, and Cassian retreated to the bench beside Rowan, taking her head into his lap, forcing down his concern at her fluttering eyelids and thin breaths the way he might force down vomit, riveting his attention upon the interaction that played out before him. Beside him, crouched low upon the seat, his muscles quivering too violently to mask the fact that he wasn't at all seated, Morpheus's eyes darted from Rowan's pale face to Jason and Luke.

Despite the urgency of Jason's movements, they greeted each other with a strange stiffness, the emotion Rowan had shown at meeting Luke absent in Jason's eyes, replaced with some subtle distrust glinting deep within even as he fell into the ship, his legs struggling to remember the feel of solid ground underfoot, his stumbling broken only by Luke's steadying arms.

He nodded his greeting to the demigod, opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his lips when his gaze fell upon Rowan's feverish and shivering form. Cassian met his eyes, momentarily raised to him, with a quiet desperation, and Jason looked back to Luke.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"She was exiled," Luke explained. "Do you have ambrosia? It'll hold her over till she can be pardoned."

Jason's mouth tightened into a frown though he breathed heavily, the stench of war radiating from him, the beads of sweat pouring down his features. With tunnel-vision focus, he absentmindedly sheathed his sword, clenched his jaw, glanced over his shoulder before looking back to Luke.

"Not on me," he answered, and Luke's eyes flashed, shaking his head in a barely perceptible protestation as he realized what Jason meant. "But there'll be some at HQ."

"HQ?" The question came from Morpheus, and all eyes fell to him. He smirked with a meek amusement, and Jason began to scan the inhabitants of the ship, noting the old faces, once enemies, and the new ones, all clueless but set and defiant of the dangers they were yet unaware of.

Jason nodded heavily. "The last refuge," he elaborated. "It's our only line of defense against Ouranos."

Morpheus fell silent and his face darkened. Attention returned to Jason and Luke, the former's trembling limbs now somewhat steadied, the gravity of the ship seeming to center upon him and his hardened eyes that met Luke's in a firm, unwavering command.

"We'll need to get to the beach," he told him. "But Typhon's in the way. He's making a steady approach from the East, and he's close. We've already deployed our last asset." Jason winced at the word, the movement barely perceptible, but Luke didn't miss it, and his eyes narrowed, dread sinking his gut.

"Last asset?" he asked.

Jason's mouth twisted into a grimace. He seemed to age infinitely in the moment, and his eyes hardened, growing dark and grave as he opened his mouth to speak. But he was cut off by a shout from outside the ship, the source out of view of the open door, but not out of Clover's. The satyr let out a cry of surprise, and Luke spun on his heels, hurrying toward the cockpit. Jason furrowed his brow, but remained where he was, his gaze falling then upon Romulus, who leaned against the wall, hand on his sheathed blade, examining silently the Roman demigod before him with a curious expression.

"Leo?" the question fell with a heavy incredulity from Luke's lips, and then he was hurrying back to the ship's belly, to the door, where he took hold of a handle at its side and leaned out, waving madly in the direction of what had appeared before Clover.

There was a reverberating pounding in the air, the greeting shout of a voice, and then, to Cassian's great surprise, there appeared in the opening of the door a massive metal dragon, a man and a woman astride it. Cassian let out a short breath of stunned amusement, remembering Rowan's tales of Leo and Festus and who he could only assume to be Calypso.

"Luke!" Leo was laughing madly, brilliantly, a brightness to his features that he had grown unaccustomed to. In answer, Luke simply reached out for Leo's hand, gesturing him inward. Leo glanced to Calypso, who gave him a soft smile and nodded in the direction of the doorway. With a grin, Leo turned back to Luke and stretched himself out, reaching for the demigod, who was now precariously situated in the doorway. Romulus had straightened, ready to grab hold of Luke, but all went well, and the werewolf relaxed against the wall once more when Leo was safely secured in the ship, bent over and brushing off the dust of his journey.

There seemed a profound relief in the man as he straightened, and, in a subtler form, it was in Calypso, too, her hard features letting up some in a strange form of puzzled calm. It wasn't lost on Luke, who had fixed the demigod with a strange expression.

"What're you doing?" Luke's expression was dark.

The smile on Leo's face faltered, turned grim. "We're the last asset."

Luke glanced to Jason, who had fixed him with an intent, heavy gaze, waiting for the reaction. Pulling his eyes from Jason, Luke turned to Festus, and noted finally the crates of Greek Fire strapped to the dragon. Horror disfigured his features and he jerked his gaze back to Leo, incredulity etched into every line of his face. He seemed to wrestle with the words, searching for them, fighting them till finally his mouth fell open, and he muttered one word.

"Kamikaze."

Leo's lips twisted in a grimace, and he nodded.

Luke stumbled a step back, a rush of emotion exploding across his features. Disgust welled up within him, and he ran a hand across his face, leaving it over his eyes for a moment as he breathed deep, stilling himself, exhaling a curse as he straightened and met Jason's eyes, reading the hardness there. His own flashed, and he did his best to mirror the son of Zeus's self-control.

"How far is Typhon?" he asked, his voice holding a note of resignation that Cassian found both comforting and disturbing at once.

"Not fifteen minutes," Leo answered, and Luke nodded resolutely in turn.

"It's enough," he said, and then a smirk flashed across his lips. He met Leo's confused gaze. "We're taking a page out of your book."

With a mischievous smile that resembled strongly his sister, Luke moved swiftly to the cockpit.

"Turn up the thrusters," he commanded Clover, leaning over the satyr's shoulder, a long finger extended as he pointed out the coast far below, the massive titan, represented only by a thunderous, swirling storm, seeming inches from the beach. "Hit the bastard with all we have." His tone was dark, invigorated, and he felt the blood pumping through his veins once more as he glanced back over his shoulder to Leo.

"You're probably gonna want to get Calypso in here," he told him.

\- - -

As Typhon approached, the beach shack, though only the entrance to the large underground headquarters, was rattled violently. Not that there was anyone inside to experience the creaking of the planks and the dangerous trembling of the glass. Rather, the demigods had gathered in a tattered group on the beach. Those too wounded to fight had been secured deep inside what parts of the Labyrinth they'd been able to tame, and those able to even simply stand, had found themselves standing tall, using what courage they had to fight against the shivering in their bones.

Percy joined Reyna at their head, his hands at his sides, fingers trembling with a restrained energy. He glanced from the approaching storm to Reyna, her grey eyes mirroring the raging ferocity and cold strength of the titan.

She noticed the movement, and her expression softened for a moment. She looked to him, a sad smile slipping across her thin lips.

"You should have gone to Annabeth," she told him.

Percy raised his eyebrows, and a wry smile disfigured his features. He looked back to Typhon, and the bitterness in his expression fell away, replaced with a gentle resignation, a remembrance flickering to life within his exhausted, harrowed eyes.

"No," he shook his head slowly. "She'd do the same."

Reyna nodded in agreement, satisfied, though she'd never say so much to him. The conversation fell to silence, broken only by the howling wind and the voices of the demigods behind, joined together with their brethren in what they could only imagine to be the last fight of their lives. There was a profound pride that burst through the cold in Reyna's heart then, and she glanced over her shoulder, taking in the clustered demigods. If she were to die today, she told herself then, there would be no better company to die with. Her mouth fell open to speak such a sentiment, but meeting their eyes one by one, she only smiled sadly and turned back to the titan, steadying herself in the shifting sands. Such a sentiment didn't need to be uttered. They all knew it already.

Beside her, Percy stiffened, leaning into his heels, raising his hands, fixing his gaze upon the churning sea, remembering the tug of power deep within. He sucked in a deep breath, tasted the familiar salt on his tongue, let his eyes slide closed, found the peace deep within, and his eyes flickered to attention, fixing themselves with a violent, brilliant fire upon the titan. He glanced to Reyna, read there the same strange peace. She met his gaze and nodded.

Raising high her spear, glinting maliciously in the cold light, she let loose a roar, and, as one, the demigods began their advance down the beach, kicking up sand as they moved in a herd, her solitary cry joined by dozens of others, all raised in one common goal: vengeance for the lost, the desperation of the living.

They hurtled toward the water's edge, headed now by the violence of the sea, Percy concentrating all his power on somehow destabilizing the titan, ripping the sea from beneath Typhon, and he was joined by the various chants and cries of the demigods about him, all bent on the same enemy.

And then, with a strange sort of horror, they watch the head of the great titan explode in a brilliant light.

Percy stumbled and slid to a halt, scrambling against his own momentum and Reyna's as he grabbed hold of her upper arm and dragged her back from the waves and the crumbling titan. Chunks of him fell from the sky, and suddenly the demigods that had been in a wholehearted charge found themselves running for cover, struggling back up the beach. Percy cursed when he finally turned, skidding to a stop, pulling Reyna behind him, now sprinting back toward headquarters.

Out of the corner of his eye, there was a flicker of fiery movement, and he turned then, watching with growing confusion as a massive object fell from the sky, flames streaming down its sides, looking like a spaceship from an old alien movie tumbling out of the atmosphere. He slowed as it plummeted, having broken through the titan's head, rattling and shaking as it seemed to barely hold itself together, and suddenly Percy's retreat turned into a slow jog. Beside him, Reyna, too, had paused, her eyes fixed upon it, her lips a tight frown.

The ship seemed unable to stop, still hurtling toward the beach, growing dangerously close, and Percy's breath caught in his throat.

"It's not gonna stop," he muttered, then turned to Reyna, eyes flashing. "They can't stop."

But she was already moving, her flowing tunic brushing past him as she sprinted along the sands through the raining debris toward the ship. Cursing again, Percy followed close on her heels, and they left behind the demigods, now standing in frozen shock halfway up the beach.

"No, no, _no_," Percy begged as the ship neared the earth, still in free-fall, seventy feet above the sands. There was a shout behind him, and he glanced back to see that Grover had broken free of the demigods and was now flying after them. Percy looked back to the ship. Fifty feet.

The side of it opened suddenly with a crash and Percy saw a figure emerge, heaving, holding tight to the doorway, its face hidden by the smog and the ash smeared across it, mixed with glistening sweat. And then it disappeared back within, and above the thunderous rattling of the ship, Percy heard a human cry out, and then watched in horror as another figure emerged into the fresh air, and threw themselves without hesitation from the doorway.

"What the _hell_?" The roar came from Grover, who'd caught up to Percy, pumping his arms, fighting against the sand and the wind toward the ship. Together, they redoubled their pace, lungs heaving for air, limbs lost in a blur of adrenaline and heart pounding.

Grover cursed as more figures emerged, throwing themselves from the ship with the same abandon, landing in heaps upon the beach before stumbling to their feet, helping one another as they moved en masse from the descending ship. Suddenly one of them caught sight of Reyna, Grover, and Percy, and began sprinting toward them, waving their arms wildly, roaring, the words caught on the breeze and carried toward them.

"_Get back!_" The figure seemed desperate, but Reyna only sped up, reaching him as the ship emptied, the last of the escapees leaping from the flaming wreckage. She stumbled into the man, for it was a man, shot him a glare, and continued forward to the others, all still struggling, dragging one another from the trajectory with desperate cries.

Percy and Grover reached the man, and Percy nearly stopped dead in his tracks when they did, for the man was none other than Jason. His heart nearly stopping, he stumbled into the sooty man, and they tumbled across the beach, clutching at one another for stability.

"_Jason_?" Percy gasped when they'd finally found their footing, but Jason had none of Percy's astonishment, merely nodding with a grim expression, his eyes meeting his friend's.

"Unfortunately," he said, before they looked to the group before them struggling, and of one mind began to sprint once more. With growing incredulity, Percy began to recognize a few others of the group as they scrambled to their feet, moving toward him. There was Leo and Calypso, and Morpheus, an old face, and then Clover, who spotted Grover and let out a shout of greeting even in the midst of the chaos.

And then a voice Percy had never expected to hear again, so lost was it to time and memory, broke through the tumult. It was Luke Castellan, and even through his profound wonder, Percy could recognize the note of panic there. He was calling for ambrosia, and he soon saw why.

Emerging from the shadow of the descending ship, he and an unfamiliar man were half-carrying, half-dragging Rowan, her body limp in their arms, her face contorted in a grimace of pain as she struggled to assist them, taking weak and failing steps, the rest of the group following on their heels, faces and arms singed by the flames, Reyna right behind, supporting yet another unfamiliar face. At the sight of Rowan, Percy leapt into action, springing forward, flying toward them, joined by Grover.

"We'll take her!" Percy roared over the screaming descent of the ship. "Go, go, _go_!"

The two didn't need to be told twice, surrendering her weak form to Percy and Grover's shoulders, slowing with the relief when they found they were out of range of the ship's crash, watching with panicked eyes as Grover and Percy hefted Rowan off the sands, carrying her with an adrenaline-induced effortlessness toward the group of demigods gathered on the beach. At the sight of the approaching survivors, and spurred on by Grover's roared commands for a medic, they leapt into action, but the explosion of noise was drowned out by a much louder one, and far behind, Cassian and Luke, both slowing and breathless, turned back, their faces lit by the brilliant light of the ship's crash.

Time seemed to slow as the U-Wing went up in flames, and Cassian hissed in pain, clutching at his ribs when the billowing smoke filled his lungs and sent him into a fit of choking. Beside him, Luke slipped an arm beneath his, helping him straighten, and, together, they turned, limping from the wreckage that smoldered behind.

Reyna soon joined them, taking hold of Cassian's other side, his head hanging low between them, his eyes blurred and darkening, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. Through the fog of pain, he heard their voices, low and distinct in the thunderous chaos about him.

"There's another prophecy," Luke managed to tell her through his struggle to regain his breath.

"A what?" Reyna's voice was harsh, and Cassian jerked his head from her in the direction of Luke, wincing in pain. She merely glanced to him, compassion in her eyes for a moment before they hardened once more.

"A- another prophecy," Luke gasped and hissed at the same time. He looked to Reyna, his eyes squinted in pain, his expression worn and drawn. Silently, she nodded, her eyes not betraying the pondering in her heart.

"Where's Festus?" she asked, changing the subject as they drew closer to the demigods before them.

"Getting Zeus," Luke answered.

"Why?" Reyna's voice turned harsh once more, biting through the wind, bringing yet another grimace to Cassian's features.

"Rowan was exiled. He needs to pardon her. We loose her if he doesn't," he grunted as Cassian grew heavier.

"We're _not_ loosing her," Cassian's voice was low, grating from disuse, but firm, and Reyna looked to him with a new fascination. She slipped into silence for a moment, then nodded, glancing back to the skies, then to the man that hung his head beside her, blood leaking from his lips.

"We won't," she promised, and they were enveloped by the clutching attentions of the waiting medics.


	32. Thirty One

Rowan's eyes flickered open with an effort, and she winced, groaning against the pain that seemed to radiate, pounding, throughout the entirety of her body. She fought against the dark that swirled within her vision till it finally faded, and she was free to examine the ceiling above her. It was low and dark, some form of stone, and underslung with fishnet, from which hung various cruelly shaped, medical devices. Cringing, she hoped they weren't used often. Between the cracks of the bricks grew small shoots of vibrant green plant life, and she raised an eyebrow in confusion. She was somewhere underground, but where, she knew not. She could only hope it was Earth. The last she could remember before she'd faded into the dark respite of unconsciousness was the struggle up the beach, carried by Percy and Grover, each footstep sending searing pain through her limbs till she passed out from the agony.

She twitched a finger, bit back tears at the pain; it felt as if every inch of her skin had stiffened into a scab, and that each movement cracked and broke it. She struggled to raise her head off the pillow that plumed about it, straining her eyes to see wether or not the blood she felt trickling down her fingertips from the cracked feeling was real or not. Her body rebelled against her efforts, and she let out a curse when she found herself unable to raise her head any higher than her chest, falling back against the pillow and swallowing past tears.

There was a movement to her right, and the ball in her throat dissipated, replaced by alarm as she strained to focus upon the figure in her periphery, her muscles stiffening. Someone was moving toward her, footsteps gentle upon the floorboards of wherever they were, the figure a shadow, now coalescing into a form, and finally a face that hovered over hers. It was Grover, eyebrows knit together, mouth tight in concern.

"How do you feel?" His voice was low, and she grunted her response.

"Like hell," she told him, then glanced down to the rest of her body. "Why can't I move?"

Grover raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You were exiled from Earth, and still chose to return to it, causing the most deadly, most untreatable and painful poison to course through your veins till there was barely any blood left, then you were prolonged in that state on ambrosia till Zeus could arrive and pardon you, and you've only been unconscious for two or three hours, leaving your body next to no time to heal, and you want to know why you can't move. I think the answer's pretty simple."

Rowan choked out a laugh, short and harsh, before she dissolved into coughing, and nodded, a bitterly amused smile stretched across her features. "I suppose that makes sense."

Grover's eyes flashed. "It should," he said, standing and moving out of her line of sight. With relief, she found she could turn her head, and did so, watching the satyr's movements. He was working at a counter opposite her, and she realized he was brewing tea. She let silence reign for a moment, letting her eyes fall back to the ceiling, her gaze drifting about all the growths of vegetation there till she spoke again, this time her voice much firmer.

"Where is everyone? And where are we?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Grover lift his head from preparing the tea, and his gaze fixed itself upon her for a moment, intent and solemn, before he turned back to the pot.

"You're on Earth, but I assume you know that much. When Ouranos attacked, we could no longer find refuge above ground. All of our safe houses were destroyed within the month, so we retreated underground. We're in the Labyrinth now. We've got Pasiphaë… well, _pacified_," he smirked, "and Hecate, Circe, and Ariadne have volunteered to help us navigate it."

Rowan raised her head a little. "Circe?"

Grover nodded, breathing out a long sigh, indicating his own incredulity. "Yeah, believe it or not. She's rather irritated with Ouranos for interrupting her business."

"I can believe it," Rowan raised a corner of her lips in a smile and lowered herself back down. The conversation fell to silence as Grover finished steeping the tea, and she listened to the clink of the spoon against the cup as he stirred in what she could only hope would be ambrosia. Grover brought it near, placing it upon a bedside table. He frowned a little, then moved closer, wrapping an arm about her and pulling her up against him as she struggled to straighten.

She bit back tears as she moved, finding herself relying heavily on Grover's own strength rather than hers, which she couldn't help but feel was shot. Finally, sweat trickling down her back and tears down her cheeks, she found herself sitting, Grover's arm still wrapped about her as she swayed, lightheaded. He let her go when she regained some strength, pressing her palms into her eyes, forcing back the tears and the ball in her throat at the helpless agony of her body.

"Here," Grover's voice was soft as he offered her the teacup.

She looked up, her breath shaking, her hands trembling as she reached for it slowly, and took it from him, raising the rim to her lips and sucking down a small sip. She let out a shivering breath, forced herself to resist the panic building in her chest. Grover watched her with knit eyebrows, his eyes intent upon her.

"Taste good?" he asked in an attempt to pull her mind from contemplating her physical state.

She glanced over and smiled gratefully. "Yeah," she exhaled, her voice broken and cracked.

Grover nodded and smiled. "Good," he said with some finality. He let it all fade to silence once more, his eyes falling to the floor as she sipped the tea beside him. She was relieved to find that he had indeed stirred ambrosia into it, and already she could feel the healing effects of the stuff running its course through her veins. Between sips, she breathed deeply, sucking in the air, which, though damp, was more refreshing than the stifled atmosphere of the U-Wing.

"Where is everyone?" she finally ventured to ask, when the cup was half empty and her throat no longer so constricted.

Grover glanced to her. "They're meeting. Your brother's telling the prophecy, and they're going to decide what to do from there."

Rowan nodded, and despite her desire to leave the hospital bed, she could not bring herself to rise and urge Grover to take her to the meeting. She wrestled within herself for a time, struggling against her own exhaustion, till she surrendered to it and took another sip of tea, glancing up to Grover. He'd read it all.

"I'm sure they won't keep you out of the loop," he comforted, and she nodded, before changing subjects.

"How's Cassian?"

Grover hid a smile. "Good. He healed quickly."

She nodded, closing her lips and letting her gaze fall back to the floor. "Good." She breathed heavily. "That's good."

Grover slipped into silence once more, watching the steam of Rowan's tea curl up into the air as he did so, the wisps of it like ghosts in the chill of the Labyrinth. He looked up then, not suddenly but enough to startle her, for she glanced rapidly to him, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Who is he?"

Rowan raised her eyebrows. "Who- Cassian?"

Grover nodded and she gave a small, halfhearted smile, amusement flashing over her features. "He's the son of Kronos," she told him.

Grover breathed a heavy sigh and lowered his head, running his hand through his hair, careful to avoid his horns. "This is going to be a more complicated fight than I originally anticipated, isn't it?" He looked to her, and she let out a small, bitter laugh.

"Yeah," she said, "It is."

\- - -

Cassian followed Luke through the close-set tunnels, his shoulders brushing against the stone as he avoided bumping into the eclectic stream of demigods moving opposite them. Ahead of them, Reyna strode proudly, seeming taller, Cassian thought, than she actually was. There was an intensity to her authority that he found somewhat intimidating, yet it aroused in him the trust and respect he'd once had for Mon Mothma. The thought of the Senator brought a pang to his heart, and he wished he could still use the excuse of his ribs.

The sensation of the ambrosia moving through his body had lasted with him. It had been a strange, searing healing, burning as it moved through his broken ribs till it faded suddenly, leaving him with a cold empty feeling he hadn't anticipated and didn't find himself enjoying. He shook his head in an attempt to rid his mind of the meditation, forcing himself to focus instead on the world about him. Reyna had explained it was the Labyrinth, and from the stories Rowan had told him, he found himself dreading each step, knowing full well the treacherous nature of the thing despite Reyna's assurances that they had the parts they inhabited under control.

It seemed a lonely and forlorn place, and the faces of the demigods that slipped past them to unknown locations seemed to only further the impression. Each of them had hollow, tired eyes, thin cheeks, cast into even deeper shadow by the flickering light of the lanterns they bore. Cassian's heart sunk even further and he turned his attention to his feet, decidedly averting his eyes from the brokenness about him, allowing himself that one respite.

The others were behind him, and though he could not see them, he could hear their echoed footsteps in the tunnels. There was Bohdi and Jyn, Clover and Romulus, Baze, Chirrut, Morpheus, and Jason, but Leo and Calypso had remained behind, choosing instead to attempt to revive the broken remains of K-2. Cassian wished he had stayed with them, longing deeply for the presence of his old companion and missing the sarcasm of the droid with each passing moment. He hoped that Leo would be able to do something, and fought against the urge to put too much faith in the legendary skills of the mechanic.

And Rowan's absence added a whole new level to his anxieties. She'd been carted off by Grover, a satyr, and apparently of some relation to Clover, to a hospital wing, followed closely by a large man, face hard and set, eyes burning with the light of war and the desperation of her state, Zeus himself, come down from the fight on high. Cassian had held his breath as the man passed, frozen in awe and wonder at the majesty of the king of the gods. The demigods had parted before him when he moved through their ranks to the hospital wing, following closely the satyr, Rowan's body draped in his arms.

It was the last he'd seen of her, her eyes rolling back into her head as she succumbed to unconsciousness, swallowed by the crowd waiting upon the beach, and in the long dark of the Labyrinth, following Reyna to the meeting in which they'd decide his fate, he longed for her presence.

Luke carried a little of her personality. Cassian read the same calculated impulsiveness in Luke's expression that he read in Rowan's, the very reason he trusted her, and, he thought, the very reason he might trust Luke. The suffering in the man's eyes brought out a gentle conviction that seemed to suffuse itself into every movement, and Cassian found in himself a budding respect for the man, alongside a solidarity.

The thought was sobering, and Cassian's gaze fell to the ground once more. He fingered the blaster strapped to his thigh, finding comfort in its familiarity. The council would decide his fate, and he hoped beyond hope it would be in his favor. He couldn't anticipate how gentle they'd be with the son of their ancient enemy. He couldn't help but feel that Luke, before him, suffered the same anxieties. He hadn't missed the glances, brimming with suspicion and distrust, shot toward the man as they'd marched.

It seemed an eternity had passed in the dark of the Labyrinth before they reached the council room. Reyna pushed into it, throwing her weight against the door. They filed in after her, finding themselves in a small room looking out over the beach, bleak and grey beneath the raging skies. The wind still buffeted the windows, though less violently now that Typhon had been momentarily defeated. In the center of the room sat a solitary card table, surrounded about various demigods, maps and documents strewn across the surface.

Reyna's arrival brought some semblance of order to the chaos of the room, and all the demigods froze in surprise before assuming stances of respect, straight-backed, heads high, anticipating her next orders. They came swiftly, though with more a touch of urgency than they had anticipated.

"We're calling an emergency meeting," she told them. "Is everyone here? Where's Dionysus?" she added, her voice sharp.

From behind a cluster of demigods, there stepped forth a man of middling height with something of a paunch to his stomach. His eyes, a violent purple, seemed highlighted by the leopard-print jacket he wore over leather armor.

"Here," he said, meeting Reyna's intent gaze, his own dark and cold. Cassian tilted his head curiously, recognizing here the Dionysus of the myths, before his exile to Camp Half-Blood, the one that could bring madness to whole battalions with a mere snap of the fingers.

"Good," she commented, striding forward to the table at the center of the room. The demigods crowded about her, drawn forth by her natural gravity, till Cassian found himself one of a ring of them about the table, eyes fixed upon her own heavy stare.

She turned to Luke then, expression expectant. Cassian sensed the tension in the man beside him, sensed it in the demigods gathered there, too. Most of them had recognized Luke, his unmistakeable scar, the grim gaze that lurked within his eyes, the solemnity in his features, and they had all but blanched.

Luke nodded his acknowledgement, let his eyes fall to the table, to his hands held before him, clenched together, knuckles white.

"There's been a prophecy," he spoke the words slowly, and they fell with a thud to the table. The eyes of the demigods about them widened. Cassian raised an eyebrow. "It was from Rhea," Luke elaborated, and mutters ran through the crowd, "or a vessel of hers." He opened his mouth to recite it, sucked in a deep breath, refusing to raise his eyes to the faces of those about him. Yet, as the words of the prophecy poured forth, he seemed to regain some form of confidence, glancing up, meeting the gazes of even the most distrustful with a hard defiance of their suspicion.

"_The sighted shall enter the half-blood's domain,_

_With hope will the sun rise again,_

_To shadow must the darkness fall,_

_And titan's child will stand tall._

_A lonely road shall lead to doom,_

_And all shall fail at sky's tomb._

_The exile returns in a chariot of flame;_

_A broken world will never be the same_."

Reyna herself seemed to size up the demigods as she listened closely to the prophecy, spoken in Luke's low and rumbling voice, grating a little with each word. Cassian followed her gaze, studying himself the expressions about him. For the most part, he read courage, a readiness, a brilliant and brimming strength in their eyes, though their faces were worn and haggard. He glanced back to his own fellows, to Jyn and Bohdi, Baze and Chirrut, felt the hurt in his heart.

Jyn met his eyes then, her own flashing with urgency. She nodded her head in the direction of Bohdi, and Cassian followed her gaze, his brow furrowed, suddenly loosing focus of the conversations that had erupted about him. The pilot wasn't doing well, his head almost lolling to the side as he leaned heavily against the wall, clutching himself tight against the shivering in his limbs, barely perceptible, but there, feverish as the color that seeped from his features.

Cassian felt his heart drop, and with what subtlety he could muster, he moved back away from the table. Luke glanced after him, saw his path, and with a foreboding in his heart, turned back to the meeting. Cassian reached Jyn then, and slipped to the other side of Bohdi, beside Baze, who moved aside with a grunt and a glance out of the corner of his eyes. Jyn shifted some of the pilot's weight onto Cassian's shoulder, and he peered about him, reading Jyn's concern before he let his gaze fall upon Bohdi.

"You okay?" he asked the pilot.

Bohdi slid his eyes open from their determinedly clenched position, grimacing as he did so. With tight lips, he shook his head negatively. Cassian looked about the room then, searching for familiar eyes till he found them. Morpheus was pressed into the back corner opposite them, his arm draped about the waist of a kindly-looking middle-aged woman, her greying hair pulled tightly back, her eyes, lined with age and looking old with sorrow, framed by gentle wrinkles. There was a joy radiating from deep within her now, but her gaze grew troubled when she felt Morpheus stiffen beside her as he caught sight of Cassian and Bohdi.

He mouthed something that Cassian didn't quite catch, but he read in the god's expression that they must wait, and he soon saw why. The room had grown silent, every gaze traveling from Luke and Reyna to Cassian himself. He felt his muscles tighten as Reyna spoke.

"It's settled," she sighed. "We contact Rhea. Everyone out," she commanded, before her gaze fell upon Cassian, Luke, and a woman with fiery red hair, pulled high up upon her head but still managing to shadow most of her features. "Except you three."

Cassian's expression darkened at the thought of meeting Rhea face to face, but he stepped forward resolutely, shifting Bohdi's weight back to Jyn. She gave Cassian a reassuring glance, though confusion glittered within her eyes, and began to move with the mass out the door. Cassian watched Morpheus hurry through the demigods, followed closely by the woman, to Jyn's side, taking Bohdi's arm beneath his and helping him forward, muttering something Cassian couldn't quite catch.

It seemed it took only a moment for the room to empty, leaving Luke, Cassian, Reyna, and the woman alone, standing stranded about the table in the center.

"Well," Reyna began, glancing to Cassian with a hard look. "Do we have the fountain?"


	33. Thirty Two

"The prophecy is genuine," Rhea said, with a repressed sigh, when the four had recited it to her and explained to her their circumstances.

She was small in the mist that was flung up and out from the small fountain, the shimmering rainbow transformed into a surprisingly clear image of Olympus's old throne room. Though Rhea herself filled most of their line of sight, Cassian could discern just a little of the wreckage of her surroundings. It was dark there, and Cassian found himself at a loss. From what Rowan had told him, the great hall was a place of splendor and light and decadence, build in the towering fashion of the Romans with all the cunning of the Greeks. But what peeked out at him from behind Rhea's glimmering form was a dark and dismal scene.

The high pillars had been cast down into rubble; the fountains scattered about were shattered and ruined, and nothing remained of their former glory but the gentle trickle of the pipes, halfheartedly attempting to pursue their purpose. No longer did the light of a thousand lanterns glow in the great recesses of the ceiling, cast down and broken upon the floor. Yet still, standing tall, lonely shadows in the already dark place, were the thrones, and Cassian found his heart beating a little stronger at the thought that not all their hope was lost.

Out of view, but close beside Rhea, there appeared to be smoldering a small fire. It illuminated softly her features, kindly and worn, but proud, queenly. Cassian saw in her eyes a fiery tyranny, an ageless strength and defiance that could and would lay waste to the nations should it be invoked, and he recognized then why she would have married Kronos. Together, they would have been the most powerful couple in the universe, powerful enough to strike down the protogenoi, and he shivered a little at the thought.

He was glad Hestia was there, just out of view, though she popped her head into their line of sight for a moment when the Iris message had begun, smiling with that suffusing warmth upon Cassian, familiarity in her eyes. He wished he could have spoken to her alone, wished he could have explained to her all that had happened to him in the storage unit of Yavin 4, his encounter with the siren, the cursed knife and the visions that had burst from it. The cursed knife. He'd almost forgotten about it, each fresh danger distracting him from the anxiety that rumbled beneath him. Involuntarily, his hand went to it, sheathed within his belt, pressed against his back, and his fingers grazed gently the hilt. He'd kept it with him since that moment, unable to rid himself of the sense that it had a role yet to play.

But all eyes were fixed upon him now, and he cursed himself for loosing his focus. He looked to Rhea, read in her eyes a sorrow and compassion. He stiffened.

"I'm sorry you have suffered so much," she was saying, and he felt his heart drop. "Your father's- your bloodline's," she corrected, "claim upon you is a steep one. But what your enemies say is true. You are the catalyst, and while it is a burden to bear, it was also motivation enough to get you here. But," and now the titan looked to Reyna, "it also means that the challenges we face will multiply. Let us only hope that we may rise to meet them with enough power to defeat them."

Reyna nodded solemnly, glancing to Cassian out of the corner of her eyes. He read there a respect and a curiosity, not quite so hostile as it had been moments before. Unease sifted into his heart, and he looked to Luke, but the demigod's gaze was lost in studying the room about him. Only the red-headed woman, the one Cassian had learned to be named Rachel Elizabeth Dare, seemed intent on the deities before them. Cassian understood why; she was the Oracle of Delphi, and before her was the titan queen of prophecy. There was a profound awe in Rachel's eyes.

"Have you gotten word from Hades yet?" The question came from Reyna, and Cassian looked with curiosity on the part of Rowan, to Rhea.

The titan queen was shaking her head negatively, and there was a grim hardness to her expression.

"Tartarus has not fully awoken yet, or so it seems. We do not know if he is simply sleeping, biding his time until the forces of the Underworld are spent against him. I will not deceive you," she began, and Reyna nearly blanched at the dread in her tone, "they weaken daily. Our last report was a week ago. Hades looses men in droves, and we're now seeing movements from Nyx. We think she will soon join with Tartarus and Ouranos."

"And Olympus?" Reyna was avoiding the tremble in her voice.

"Olympus is believed to be abandoned, and so we have not been touched by battle overmuch," Rhea paused, then her eyes flickered to attention upon Luke's, intent and burning. Luke stiffened under the gaze. "However, I recommend you act upon the prophecy you've been given." Rhea looked back to Reyna. "Send out teams, puzzle through it, for even I do not know what it entails. It is our only chance to victory, and if we are to truly win, we will need to act quickly."

Reyna nodded, her face stony, and raised a parting hand, sensing the end of the conversation. "Very well," she said. "Farewell."

Rhea nodded in turn, and a fading "good luck" was all that slipped through the collapsing image of the Iris message, muffled by distance, and then the room fell silent. Reyna bit the corner of her lip harshly, pondering over the last words of the titan queen, and then taking in the worn expressions of Cassian and Luke. She opened her mouth to speak, paused, reconsidered her words, and then spoke.

"Get some rest," she told them. "Your journey has been long and hard, and we would only be injuring ourselves if we attempted to act tonight. We've won a victory today, and we must allow time for Zeus and Jason to return to their battlefront."

Luke's relief was undisguised, his features falling a little from their tightened state. He nodded his gratitude.

Reyna smiled sadly. "I'll show you to your quarters, and to Rowan," she added.

\- - -

Baze, Chirrut, and Romulus were waiting outside, the three of them leaned up against the wall, in part to rest somewhat from their struggles, but also to keep out of the way of the occasionally heavy traffic of demigods and their weapons racing through the tunnels. Wordlessly, they banded together behind Reyna and Rachel, following the two through the dim Labyrinth, lit only by the torches placed every ten yards or so. Cassian walked beside Baze, Chirrut behind them, and Luke and Romulus even farther back, speaking together in muted tones.

"You've done well."

The words jerked Cassian from his reverie, brought upon by the endless monotony of the stonework, and he started to attention, glancing up and about him for the source of the voice, before his eyes caught hold of Baze's glittering in the torchlight, a gentle smile upon the man's lips. Cassian cocked his head to the side, his mouth twisted in a returned, wry smile as he struggled to understand what Baze had meant.

"You've done well," Baze repeated then, urging forward his opinion against Cassian's disbelief.

"How?" he asked, truly at a loss. As far as he could tell, much of what he'd been doing lately had resulted in some form of ruin and despair, and he had trouble believing the words that had been so kindly directed at him.

"You've led us well," Baze elaborated shortly, looking back to the tunnel before them that seemed to stretch on in darkness for eternity. "I am sorry for doubting you on Jedha. And with Erso's death," he added, exhaling heavily. "You have proven yourself a better man than that."

Cassian opened his mouth to speak before closing it once more, letting the conversation lapse into silence for lack of a better response. They had advanced a few more paces before he responded.

"Thank you."

Baze twisted his lips in an amused smile and nodded, and they continued on in silence, falling into a rhythmic pace, their minds, exhausted from the great stresses of the past few days, taking respite in the monotony till Reyna began to slow, and the tunnel grew somehow brighter. Cassian sought for the source, and his eyes struggled against the darkness a moment till he realized it was coming from a break in the wall, a cavernous opening that lead into a great hall. Reyna seemed to be directing her steps for it, and Cassian sighed gratefully, his heart yearning for a larger space than the cramped tunnels.

Reyna turned the corner, disappearing momentarily until Baze and Cassian moved into the firelight flickering from the center of the large, circular room. Cassian realized it was quite like Morpheus's lodgings on Coruscant, but rather than the dark mystery of the magic that surrounded the god, there was a warmth here that suffused Cassian wholly, and the impression was furthered by the sight of Rowan seated beside Grover upon the edge of the bed nearest the entrance, one of dozens, all facing the firelight in the center. They were, for the most part, empty, the few occupying them unconscious or silently gazing at the ceiling, underslung with fishnet and various curiosities, their expressions worn, listless.

Cassian was happy to see there was still light glimmering deep within Rowan's eyes, though, a laughter playing about her lips. With a tilt to his head, he saw that the ambrosia and the pardon had healed her on a level far deeper than the physical, and the troubled expression in her eyes that had persisted ever since her encounter with Octavian had faded somewhat, receding the way an illness might from the blood. He took a step into the room, following Reyna, and she looked up, sensing the movement.

A smile flashed across her features then and she rose, moving toward the group.

"Fancy seeing y'all here," she laughed, then looked to Reyna. "What'd you discuss?"

Reyna smiled a little. "Not much other than what Luke could report of your adventures over the past few years. Don't worry," she assured at the troubled look in Rowan's expression. "We decide our next steps of action tomorrow. Until then, you need rest." Cassian caught Grover's emphatic nod, shot over Rowan's shoulder toward Reyna. "Follow me to the sleeping quarters."

Rowan nodded, and Cassian noticed the glint of relief that flashed to life in her eyes. She'd never own up to it, but he could sense the exhaustion in her, and her steps were somewhat shuffling when she fell into pace beside Cassian. They placed themselves at the back of the group, behind Romulus and Luke, striding in step together, silent and grim. Rowan smiled at the solidarity between the two of them, the slight paternal glances of Romulus to Luke, the silent reverence with which Luke treated the werewolf, the mutual trust that ran like a current between them.

She glanced to Cassian, unable to avoid the inevitable considerations that slipped into her mind. She remembered her first encounter with the captain; it seemed impossible that it had happened only a week or so ago. As she walked beside him now, she could not imagine the journeys they had undergone without him. As for the darkness looming before them, the comfort of his presence brought a strength to her bones and spirit. They hovered on the edge of a precipice; between them and the great trials ahead, there remained only the night.

Reyna moved quickly, and Rowan had a feeling she, too, sensed the great inevitability before them. Her pace wavered between a reluctant slowness and an eager speed as she swung between an urgent desire to face the future and a desperate need for rest. From the demigods Rowan had seen in the hospital wing, the months they had suffered Ouranos's assault had been agonizing and long. It had been reflected in Grover's eyes as he had rested to speak with her, and even in the eyes of Hebe, goddess of youth, there was age as she moved from one cot to the other, speaking in muted tones to the patients lying there.

They came to a halt at the beginning of a large corridor, something like a great hall, the thin cramped walls of the tunnels they'd been advancing through falling away to this great open space. As the group of them spread out to get a better view of what was before them, the others cleared out of Cassian's and Rowan's lines of sight, revealing suddenly to them that the place was lined with cots. Four rows of them stretched as far as the light of the massive torches above them could reach, and then beyond, the pale white of the sheets glimmering far off in the dark.

Some of them were empty, others full, and of those, most of them seemed to be rising, strapping on various assortments of armor to prepare for what Cassian could only expect was the night guard. From behind them, there came a slow dripping stream of demigods filtering into the place, finding their own cots, falling with thudding exhaustion to the sheets, not even bothering to pull from their straining limbs their armor. It was a bleak sight, and Cassian grimaced at it.

In the early days of the Rebellion, when the small offshoots of it were just beginning, he'd found himself among a group like this, only much smaller. The days had been exhausting, pushing his body and his spirit to the very limit of their power, but the nights were even more-so. Even in exhaustion, the deadening type that sucked from his limbs every ounce of energy, the fear of death haunted him and his fellows. Alone in a bunker far beneath the earth, they feared for the lives of their brothers-in-arms high above, armed with nothing but the scant few weapons the Rebellion could afford to lend them.

He glanced to Reyna, beginning to understand the desperate situation in which she'd found herself and the hope that she was clinging to in the form of Luke's prophecy. With a frown, he found himself appreciating the rest she'd offered them even more. But it was not to last long.

"We'll meet again at six-thirty tomorrow morning and decide what we should do in regards to this new prophecy. If we can reach a conclusion, then we'll begin our preparations. I am sorry we cannot afford you much time to rest, but this is the end of the world as we know it, and our time is limited." Reyna's voice was hard and sharp, and Rowan's brow furrowed in a remorseful understanding. The group of them only nodded in turn.

Luke opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a voice from their right, calling out a greeting, and they turned collectively to see the source. It was Clover, striding toward them, followed by Bohdi and Jyn.

"Glad to see you free, mates," Clover joked, nodding to Reyna in a momentary show of respect, before turning to face them. His eyes glimmered happily when he met Luke's gaze, a thankful grin on the demigod's lips.

Reyna raised her eyebrows, a passing amusement in her features. "Clover will show you to where you will sleep. For tonight, you're our guests, and so you'll stay in the more private rooms we have. I fear you'll have to pair off, though," she said, eyeing them slowly down the line.

Clover shrugged for them. "They don't care," he said, an undertone of laughter to his voice. He spun about and began to march back the way he'd come. "Follow me, mates!" he cried boisterously, and then added as an after thought, "And good night, Reyna!"

Rowan chuckled, the laugh rumbling deep within her, barely contained in Reyna's presence, and she followed after the satyr, a new bounce to her steps as she strolled on beside Cassian. They journeyed along a side tunnel for a time, Cassian keeping an eye on Bohdi, who walked before them beside Jyn.

The pilot still seemed in a daze, occasionally glancing sharply to the left and right at small tunnels they passed but did not enter, though not quite as badly as he had been, and Cassian could only hope that, whatever the situation, Morpheus had put him on the right path to healing. After his own experience with the god, he'd found himself trusting him more and more, and he found it curious that the men and women that he'd come to align himself with over the past few days were, for the most part, the ostracized from earth. He wondered how deeply that was reflected within himself.

His musings were cut off, however, by their arrival at the small cells in which they would sleep for the night. Clover held out his hands in a dramatic gesture of welcome, smiling widely.

"Welcome home, mates," he told them, but they knew the truth, and so did he. After this brief respite, they would soon find themselves thrown out into the darkness of the challenges before them, and with this shadow over their heads, they doubted whether or not sleep would actually come that night.


	34. Thirty Three

"I fear for our friends."

The words were whispered softly into the night. Jyn's eyes flickered open when she heard them, her back to the room and to the bunk across it, from which Baze had spoken. She swallowed past the trepidation closing up her throat and involuntarily curled into a tighter ball beneath the heavy sheets, suppressing the shiver that ran down her spine. The words were true, and she feared for them, too.

Chirrut shifted in the bunk above her, and she heard the low rumble of his voice. "As do I," he said simply. "There is a great destiny upon them. It moves about and through them."

"And us?" Baze's voice was heavy.

"We will protect them as best we can," Chirrut returned, a sorrow in his tone that bespoke his own hopelessness.

"And Jyn?"

Jyn resisted the urge to stiffen at her name, revealing her consciousness. Baze still believed she'd fallen asleep, but she sensed in her bones that Chirrut was well aware of her farce. She heard the sheets shift about him as he rolled to look upon Baze.

"The strongest stars have hearts of kyber," he repeated, and she recognized his greeting to her on Jedha, the memory foggy from the time that had passed between now and then.

Apparently Baze was confused, for Chirrut elaborated. "Even now she feels the tug of her own path."

Beneath the sheets, Jyn trembled in her bones and squeezed shut her eyes.

\- - -

"Bohdi!" Cassian kept his voice low, hissing out into the night. The chill air turned his breath into a ghost that plumed forth before dissipating. In the low bed across from him, the still form of Bohdi shifted, rolled over, and Cassian's gaze met eyes that glinted strangely in the little light that filtered through the bars of the door and into the room.

"What?" Bohdi's voice was low, and there was no hint of grogginess within it. For the past couple hours, then, he'd done nothing but toss and turn, just as Cassian had. He couldn't say he blamed the pilot. Aside from the ever-increasing complexity of their position, the cell-like room didn't make sleep any easier. Cassian let his head fall back upon the pillow and studied the underside of the stone ceiling.

"What was wrong today?" The question was still bothering him. Before they'd all disappeared into their sleeping quarters for the night, Jyn had pulled Cassian aside and explained to him her fear that the madness of Bor Gullet was simply taking longer to set in. When Morpheus had done his best to help them, imparting a little bit of his knowledge as he did so, and in quite the same fashion that he had to Cassian, he hadn't been able to determine the cause of the reeling in Bohdi's mind, only fashioned for the pilot a salve to rub into his temples that would relieve him of the headache.

Bohdi took a while to answer, and Cassian rolled over to see if he'd fallen asleep, though he highly doubted it. Finally, the pilot's voice came from across the room, low, subdued. "I- I don't know. It was like there was this tugging in my thoughts. It wasn't a voice or anything, just a-," he paused, searching for the right word, before resigning himself, "a tugging."

Cassian waited a moment to respond, his thoughts lost in circles. He opened his mouth to comfort the man, but he was interrupted before he could speak, and his words fell to oblivion in his mind.

"What- what do you think will happen next?"

The question had been echoing in Cassian's mind for nearly three hours now, and he still had no answer, neither for himself, nor for Bohdi, and so he shrugged, mustering as much nonchalance as he could. "I don't know," he admitted, and then paused. "I guess we'll find out tomorrow."

\- - -

Luke woke in a cold sweat, his muscles stiffening, his body firing itself up and out of the warmth of the sheets, into the chill air of the cell, his limbs trembling, his face sheet-white. In his ears echoed the tortured screams of Ethan Nakamura, falling, endlessly falling to a sudden and bloody end. His mind reeled, struggling for a point of reality on which to cling, his breath short and sharp, his eyes swimming with unwept tears. He scrambled for Backbiter, its sheath hanging at the foot of the bed, glinting in the light from the main hall. His hand closed about the hilt, knuckles white, and he seemed to collapse in on himself, his fingers sliding slowly from their grip on the blade, back to his lap, where they shivered as he stilled his breathing, controlled his inhales, his exhales, and then finally breathed a heaving sigh, running his fingers through his hair, resting his forehead in his palms, letting out a low curse.

He raised his gaze to Rowan's sleeping form, splayed out in the bunk across the cell, clutching the pillow to her as she rested, her body rising and falling rhythmically. A small smile raised the corner of his lips when he beheld her. She slept the same way she always had, even on the streets, as if there were no threat, not even of some horrendous monster, that could persuade her to surrender her habits of taking up as much space as possible. She seemed at peace now, contrary to the night before.

They had talked late, till they had exhausted all the subjects of the times they had spent apart, and though her stories were fascinating, he found himself resting more in the familiarity of her presence. For the one moment that they had it, it was like old times, sharing stories in the dark, in unfamiliar rooms, the advance of enemies all around, for the moment delayed enough to allow them hope. But there had been an undertone to the conversation that was not so resembling of old times; there was a hardness to Rowan's voice that had not always been there, and a note of hopelessness to his that he, in their youth, had yet to gain, and so there was a darkness to their stories, and the night had ended in something far off of the laughter of their childhood.

He stiffened, rose to his feet, and stretched, scanning the room and inclining an ear toward the hall. No one else had risen yet, and satisfied with the silence, Luke grabbed hold of Backbiter, strapping it to his belt as he moved out of the cell, careful with the door when he closed it behind him. Looking through the bars, he saw that Rowan had not yet stirred, and so he moved confidently down the hall, back the direction they'd come.

He'd always been good with directions, but he was happy that the paths of the Labyrinth, through the guiding hands of Ariadne, Hecate, and, to his surprise, Circe, had been straightened, becoming easily navigable, easy enough for him to reach the beach house in a period of about twenty minutes. It was dim and quiet there, the lanterns of the meeting room not yet lit, but papers and maps still blanketed the surface of the table, and he peered about it to see the slumbering form of Reyna, her body contorted in her chair, her head resting gently upon her hand. Luke furrowed his brow and tilted his head at the sight, concern and sorrow in his eyes.

He pushed on, moving outside and into the sea air that buffeted the beach house and tousled his hair, filling his lungs. He breathed slowly, taking in the salty tang, remembering the beauty that the world once held before the onslaught of Ouranos. There was a figure far ahead on the beach, and it didn't take much riddling for Luke to realize it was Percy. He had a feeling that, with the absence of Annabeth racking the heart of the man so fully, he would find no respite underground.

Luke stepped forward, his boots sinking into the sand as he did so, but a harsh voice called off his movements, and he froze, turning about to face the speaker.

"Where do you think you're going?" The question was sharp, pointed, and Luke came face to face Terminus, the stone god staring him down with a fiery glare.

Luke raised his hands in surrender. "I'm going to speak with Percy," he explained.

Terminus opened his mouth, but paused as he did so, studying Luke thoroughly. Slowly, his mouth tightened into a frown once more, till he gave a short, jerking nod. "I _suppose_ you can go," he said then, his stone features softening a little before growing rapidly rigid again. "But I've got my eye on you."

Luke nodded, and a gently laughing smile slipped across his lips. "Thank goodness."

Before the god could respond, Luke had turned, though he heard the low chuckle behind him, and advanced through the shifting sands in the direction of Percy's figure, a dark shadow in the even darker night. The sun had not yet risen, and Luke glanced down to his watch, frowning. He pressed down the light, illuminated the hands of it, and was surprised to find that it was already five-thirty. The sun should have been rising, but the world was black. Dread settled into his bones, and he redoubled his pace toward Percy.

The man turned as Luke neared, and his expression lit up in a multitude of emotions, and each of them, Luke felt with a drop in his stomach, he could account for. But Percy smiled as he neared, a sad smile, and a shadow of his former mirth, but a smile nonetheless.

"'Morning," Percy greeted as Luke came up beside him. Luke nodded in turn, grinning his own greeting. They let silence reign for a moment now, both studying the ocean, both searching for the right words to say.

"It's still dark," Luke noted after a time, and his brow furrowed in concern.

Percy nodded, his eyes flashing. "I don't think the sun's gonna rise today," he said, his voice low, dark.

Luke's expression grew grim. "Rhea said something about Nyx joining Tartarus. There were rumors it was happening."

Percy's chest deflated a little. "I don't think they're rumors anymore," he commented.

Luke didn't respond, forced himself to breathe deep the sea air, to feel the gentle caressing of the wind upon his skin, billowing sea-spray toward them so that it pattered at their feet, a drumbeat for the lapping of the waves. They rested together in that moment, caught somewhere between the chaos of war and the calm of the deep, until they knew it was time to abandon their daydream, return to reality.

"What are you watching for?" Luke asked.

"My father went off to find Pontus. We're hoping to secure an alliance with him. There'd be hope if we could, but we have to find him first. I'm to watch for the first sign of them," Percy explained.

Luke looked over to him, noting the exhaustion in his voice, and he saw the haggard, beaten look in Percy's eyes, strained from night after night of fruitless waiting. Compassion filled him.

"Rest a bit," he told him. "I'll watch until the meeting."

Percy opened his mouth to protest, but already his eye-lids were struggling to stay open, and he simply nodded gratefully, lowering himself to rest upon the sands, crossing his arms beneath his head as his eyes watched the storming clouds above. Luke lowered himself beside Percy, pulling his knees up and resting his elbows there, his eyes scanning the horizon, so lost in the endless black of it that he didn't notice the figure that seemed to form from the shadows beside him, standing still and tall in the dark, till she spoke.

"The oceans here are much more beautiful than where I come from," she said.

Luke stiffened, his hand falling to Backbiter before he peered up into her face and recognized Jyn, her features hard-set, anxious but defiant. It was the same expression she always seemed to have, and Luke wondered for a moment where it had come from. Rowan had mentioned that she was the daughter of an Imperial science officer, that many of the trials Rowan had undergone in space were related to the battleship plans Jyn's father had created, and he began to evaluate her in a new light, noting the bright intelligence in her eyes, the result of a life on the lam, and the subtle strength in her limbs, a deadly surprise to any unsuspecting enemy. He smiled a little at the thought, then patted the sand beside him.

"Take a seat," he offered, and she nodded, taken somewhat aback, before lowering herself, panther-like, beside him.

"Thanks," she returned when she'd settled herself into the sand, a few inches shorter than him. They rested in silence for a moment, and Luke watched her incline her head to the sea, listening closely to its lilting melodies that came gently to them on the breeze.

"It's strange," she said after a time, glancing to him, her brows furrowed in a sad sort of confusion. He nodded for her to continue, turning his full attention toward her. "Ever since we've arrived," she elaborated, letting her eyes fall back in a daze to the sea, "I've felt some familiarity here. It's as if walking in a memory."

Luke furrowed his brow, nodding slowly. He turned his head to watch the waves beat against the sand once more.

"I don't know what it is," she concluded finally, letting the doubt, the trepidation, slip into the breeze, her voice ending on a low note.

Luke shrugged helplessly. "I don't know either," he told her, wishing he had a better answer, but knowing that the falseness would only cause her more anxiety. "I have a feeling, though," he added, "that you'll find out soon enough what it means." He looked to her, a meaningful glint in his eyes, and she nodded solemnly, meeting his gaze, before turning back to the sea.

There was silence again, in which Luke studied her features, taken aback at the beauty there, suffusing her face, welling up from deep within, gently and firmly all at once. When she spoke, it took him a moment to register the question.

"Why was Rowan looking for you?"

He faltered a little when his mind grasped her words, and his eyes fell with a bitterness to his hands, the fingers clasped together. He took a moment, tasting his answer on his tongue before he ventured to say it.

"Did she tell you about the war against Kronos?" he asked after a moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she shook her head negatively, and he let out a barely perceptible sigh of regret when she did so, preparing himself to recount all that had happened.

"I-," he sucked in a breath. "I allowed Kronos to possess my body. I'm… I'm the reason he was able to gather his armies." There was a hard resignation in his voice; he felt his heart hardening against the memories as he finished his explanation as rapidly as possible, his only defense against the nightmares in his mind. "I'm the reason for the war. At the end of it, though, I had enough consciousness to defeat him," he said, and took another deep breath. "I tried to take my own life." Jyn's head jerked to face him, and he fixed his vision on the sand, refusing to meet her eyes. "It was the only way to defeat him, and it would have given me a final peace, but in the moments while I was dying, Rowan showed up. She's always had remarkable powers of healing, and she was able to slow the process that should have taken seconds, allowing enough time for me to be transported back to Camp, where they healed me.

"I lived there for a year or so, training new recruits, but always reminded of what I had done. I was not to be trusted, and I knew that full well. There were times in which I could not even trust myself, but they passed quickly. As far as sisters go, Rowan is probably the most loyal," he interrupted himself to smile a little, the expression mirrored by Jyn as she watched closely his lips form the words of his tale. "But when the war against Gaea started, it was too much to bear. As soon as I knew for certain that the war was won, I left. Rowan had gone on a quest with a few other demigods, and she was growing into her skill and powers, and so I knew that she would be safe. I had arranged passage months before with a group of Mandalorians that had been stranded here for some time, trading them parts for my escape. We left before Rowan could dissuade me, because I knew that she would."

Luke paused then, and his gut twisted within him, guilt and remorse building like vomit till his eyes fell back to Jyn's.

"I was a coward," he told her, his voice low and harsh and grating. "I was hiding behind the excuse that my absence would be the best thing for her, but all I truly wanted was to run away, and, like a _coward_, I did."

Jyn's eyes were large and sad when he met them, and her hand traveled gently up to rest upon his shoulder, the warmth from it seeping through his clothes and into his skin, more powerful than the biting chill of the wind. He found himself involuntarily huddled against it, relaxing his muscles beneath her touch, his shoulders loosening the tension that had been stored there for longer than he could remember. He met her eyes again then, the chocolate brown melting the ice in his own, and so they remained, as if they had been cut from the bonds of time.

Time caught up to them, though, enveloping them and pulling them back to the present. Luke looked down at his watch again, saw that it was nearing the hour for the meeting, and then glanced back to the beach house. Already, the lanterns were being lit in the meeting room, and he could see the silhouettes of various men and women thrown against the blinds.

"It's time to go," he muttered to her, reluctant to move. It was mirrored in her, but she nodded, struggling against her own desires as she rose from the sand.

She offered a hand to Luke, and he took it, throwing his weight into his legs and standing. He knelt beside Percy, placing a hand on the man's shoulder and rocking him gently. Percy's eyes flickered open, the whites turned bloodshot, looking as if he were waking into a nightmare, not from one.

"The meeting's starting," Luke explained, when he saw that Percy would not speak. Percy nodded solemnly, raising himself to a seated position. "Are you coming?" Luke asked, offering his hand the way Jyn had offered hers.

"No," Percy shook his head as he took Luke's hand, his voice low and broken, still adjusting to the world about him after his sorely-needed rest. "Reyna will update me on the plan of action," he explained when he was on his feet. "I can't abandon my position here."

Luke nodded in understanding and looked back to the beach house. He took a step toward it, followed by Jyn, before turning and facing Percy with a smile, unassuming but hopeful. "I hope to see you sometime soon, Percy," he said.

Percy grinned softly. "I hope so, too," he said, and they parted, Percy turning back to the sea as Jyn and Luke hurried up the sloping beach to the meeting they were very nearly late for.

"It's so dark," Jyn commented as they slowed beside Terminus's statue.

Luke's face was grim. "The sun won't rise today," he said, and with that, they entered the meeting, and Jyn's face, already hard-set, grew even more defiant under the hopelessness that fell like the executioner's blade upon them.


	35. Thirty Four

The rest of them were already gathered when Luke and Jyn slipped into the meeting room, a collection of them all standing about the card table in the center, strangely devoid of all the papers that Luke had seen just hours before, the surface of it now occupied solely by the map. One glance to the seat upon which

Reyna had been sleeping revealed to him where the papers had all moved, now piled precariously high upon it. Luke and Jyn weren't quite noticed when they walked in, and Luke soon saw why.

As he looked about the room, taking in the features of the men and women, consisting solely of his fellows from space, aside from Rachel Elizabeth Dare, and immortals, in the case of Dionysus, Morpheus, Athena, and Apollo, looking rather irritated, gathered there, he saw that many of them were still exhausted, the bags beneath their eyes and the glazed look in them seeming worse than it had the night before, and Luke had a feeling that he wasn't the only person that hadn't slept well.

Rowan was reclining across the room from him, her elbows on her knees, angled high from where she had fallen onto a low bench, her head hanging low. Beside her, Cassian leaned his head up against the wall, his eyes slipping shut no matter how hard he attempted to combat them. Rowan glanced up when Luke walked in, and there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes as they drifted to Jyn. She winked at Luke, and Luke shot her a stinging glare. Undaunted, she lowered her head once more, a chuckle ripping through her. Cassian glanced down, his eyebrows raised in confusion, a gentle smile tilting up the corner of his lips, a laugh glimmering within his eyes.

Clover stood silently beside Romulus before the table, glancing over at the werewolf's stiff form as he did so, and Luke couldn't help but note that the satyr seemed to be subconsciously attempting to mimic the werewolf's posture, looking him up and down. Luke repressed a laugh at the sight, looked to the others there. Bohdi, a man he hadn't ever truly spoken to, but that he remembered from the ship, was glancing about himself with a startled expression, looking over his shoulder with each passing moment. It took Luke an effort to wrench his gaze away from the nervous quivering in the man's lips, endlessly combating the permeating weariness in his eyes.

Beside him stood Baze and Chirrut, the only two that looked as if they had received any semblance of rest, standing tall, almost as tall as Romulus, but without the gravity of the werewolf, their faces devoid of the grimness in his. It hadn't taken Luke long to realize that Chirrut was the idealist of the pair, Baze the fighter, and the balance presented itself here as it had in all the other situations Luke had seen them manage, but the signs of exhaustion lingered in them, too.

Luke and Jyn moved about the table to Rowan and Cassian, who had risen from their bench, leaning against the wall in an attempt to rouse themselves, meeting each other's eyes with a deep concern as the time for the meeting drew nearer and nearer. Luke saw Rowan shift a little closer to Cassian, almost involuntarily, and he found a small smirk slipping across his features, thinking of the look she'd given him when he'd come in with Jyn. She was still behind him, and he could feel her keeping close till they reached the opposite wall, steps seeming loud in the muffled, silent dread of the room.

"Good morning," Rowan said when they arrived. Mischief still lingered in her eyes.

"'Morning," he returned, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her. She seemed to sense this, for her grin widened.

Suddenly, there was a bang to their right, and all eyes turned to it as Reyna strode into the room. She'd cleaned herself up from the haggard mess that Luke had seen earlier that morning, and her eyes were wide, flashing with a bright wakefulness that was not reflected in the eyes of the others there, unless it was panic at the sudden, jarring entrance. Anticipation flowed like a current though them all, and they followed with trepidation the movements of their leader.

She held their gazes as she turned, taking them all in, coming to a standstill at the table. Meeting the eyes of Rowan, Cassian, Luke, and Jyn in the corner, she beckoned them forward, and then raised her voice to speak to the rest of them.

"In order for us to understand our next steps, you need to be informed as to the state we're in," she said, her voice deep and grave, gaze heavy. "I must ask you to keep whatever I tell you to yourselves. As much as we wish the opposite, our current position is a difficult one, and any indication of this to our troops could be fatal for us. This is top secret information."

There was a collective nod. Rowan found herself holding her breath in the weight of the room, feeling the resistance to it building within her, the urge to run, to fight, but she stilled herself, tried to ease the tension in her muscles.

Reyna began then. "Ouranos's attack began four months ago. Since then, the earth has seen cataclysmic events worthy of the Apocalypse. Our first order of business was to protect the mortals who had no defense against it, and so, with the help of Calypso, Hera, and Demeter, we've been able to relocate most of humanity to Ogygia. Those left are being sought out by a few teams of demigods we have in the Labyrinth, transporting them to Ogygia. Of all the defensive measures we've taken against Ouranos, this has been our most successful, and it's been the most important… Up till now."

She glanced back to Apollo. Luke realized the irritation on the god's features hadn't been irritation at all; he was exhausted. It permeated the whole of his face, sinking deep within lines that Luke had never anticipated for an immortal. There was age in the ageless, and horror disfigured Luke's features when he looked back to Reyna. Her expression was grave.

"Our defensive lines are failing. You became acquainted with our last asset." Her voice seemed to drop an octave, grating with despair. "It would have been a momentary collapse of Ouranos's attack, long enough for us to retreat to Ogygia and hold our last defense there. With the arrival of Typhon, that plan would have failed. Leo's suicide would have been followed swiftly by our own. Thanks to you, we've been able to recover some of the ground we've lost, but our war is no longer solely defensive- we can't maintain that. We've got forces in the open now that had originally been scout troops. Our hope is to strike some small, but fatal blow to our enemy, but even that has been failing. Rowan, you were lucky to be in our medical ward at a time when it wasn't filled. That's been a circumstance that has come few and far between. Your prophecy," her eyes fell to Luke, "is our last hope."

Rowan glanced down to the map, noting the red and blue markers all over the surface of it. Bypassing the last comment of Reyna, she gestured to them.

"What are those?"

Reyna furrowed her brow, confused, and glanced down, noting where Rowan's finger was pointing, and nodded in understanding. "The red marks where Ares and his troops are gathered. The giants are roaming the land once more, and they're hunting them. Alcyoneus has given us a little bit of trouble," she added, giving Rowan a significant look.

Rowan's head shot up at the name, her eyes flashing. "He was imprisoned in Tartarus," she said, her voice low, threatening, but Reyna's eyes were grim, and Rowan remembered that the woman had spent some time in the Underworld. There was the pall of it in her eyes, the hidden scars of a time spent there, deep within the confines of the dead, and Rowan almost regretted her tone, but the urgent, seething fear was still there.

"That's the other problem," Reyna nodded. "Tartarus is with Ouranos. They've formed an alliance."

Rowan's breath caught in her throat. "And my father?" Her eyes were dangerously hard when Cassian glanced down, tracing their gaze to Reyna, who stiffened beneath it, her own flashing out in rebellion.

"His forces are large," Athena said from the right, moving out from the shadows of the corner. Her voice was low, soothing. "Of all of us, his forces loose the least ground, but," and here she paused, hesitating, "Tartarus hasn't fully risen yet. We don't know the true extent of his forces, or whether or not he's exhausting Hades's force before sending out his full power."

Rowan shifted her weight on her feet, stepped closer to the table. "Let me go to him," she said, her voice low, directed to Reyna. But Reyna's eyes were dark, regretful even in their firmness.

"I understand your desire to see him and help where you may, but our fight is here. Hades has not sent out call for help, and so we must respect the dignity of his actions and assume that he does not need it. In any case, we cannot spare the resources," Reyna explained. Cassian felt Rowan stiffen beside him, saw the frustration tensing in her shoulders, wished he could support her in her fight, but the logic of Reyna made more sense than he was willing to admit, and he looked to her, nodding his understanding.

Rowan fumbled with her thoughts for a moment, the ferocity of her nature, with such a penchant for passion, wrestling with the cool but compassionate reasoning of Reyna. Finally, she glanced to Cassian, saw in his eyes his understanding, and his agreement with Reyna. She sighed, a barely perceptible exhalation, her eyes flashing before resuming their usual expression, turning to Reyna.

"Alright," she was able to force from between her lips. "We solve the prophecy," she said, but then her features tightened. "Then I go to my father." The words were hard, unyielding, and Reyna nodded with a slight incline of the head.

"Solve the prophecy, and we'll give you what resources you need to get there," she offered, and then looked back to the rest of them. Cassian noted, however, that she shot Rowan one last look, an impressed one, her eyebrows raised in admiration for the fiery determination of the demigod that had not diminished in the years since they had last fought beside each other. She felt suddenly grateful for her presence there, knowing full well that the forces of Ouranos and Tartarus would quail before her should they do even the smallest thing to cross her. Reyna's eyes then drifted to Cassian's, and saw there the command, the absorbing calm of the depths of the sea, and recognized from whence the power to quell Rowan's towering fury originated.

Luke, who had been following her gaze, met her eyes when they landed on his with a knowing smile, glancing to his sister and the son of Kronos.

"Now," Reyna sighed, all merriment fading. "The prophecy." She paused, recalling to mind the lines that Luke had recited over and over, forcing down the ball of hopelessness that had gathered in her throat. She cleared it, looked to the others, took in the new faces with what she could manage of a reassuring smile, though it came out somehow twisted, and she highly doubted it had done them any good.

"The first line seems simple enough," the words came from the young woman beside Luke. Reyna recalled her name was Jyn, inclined an ear toward her. Rowan glanced to Athena then, noted a frown of confusion on the goddess's face, and wondered what it might portend.

Rowan tugged her gaze away to Reyna, who had picked up on Jyn's train of thought. "_The sighted shall enter the half-blood's domain_ would imply Earth. As those of you that aren't demigods," here her eyes took in those of Baze, Chirrut, Bohdi, and Jyn, "have obviously been gifted with clear sight, we may be able to assume that this part of the prophecy has been fulfilled. But the rest of the lines don't appear to be so clear…," she let the sentence trail off.

"_With hope will the sun rise again_," Luke repeated, glancing outside to the profound black that had enveloped the earth. "I wonder if that means that Nyx will be defeated." Involuntarily, he glanced down to Jyn beside him. Cassian, on his other side, watched the exchange, looked to Rowan and saw there an amused glitter in her eyes despite the troubled look brewing deep within.

"The next line might refer to that as well," Morpheus interjected, then, and his voice seemed to come with a forced vagueness, though his eyes drifted to Rowan as he recited it, some form of remorse deep within them. The trials she and Cassian had suffered still haunted him. The god of dreams hadn't gotten much sleep that night. "_To shadow must the darkness fall_," he finished.

Reyna nodded approvingly, and Rowan was glad that none of the other eyes in the room turned to her, preferring the anonymity of Cassian's shadow to the searching gazes of all those gathered. Though she had saved Luke's life years ago, it had been a moment of desperation, of a tearing, wrenching passion that had woken her enough, invigorated her enough, to heal him. Even on Scarif, her powers had been somewhat erratic, ungoverned. Though she knew she had a potential for it, a potential to be great, she was sure that defeating Nyx would be impossible were it left to her.

"Erebus, her husband, is protogenoi of shadow, though," the words came from Athena, whose gaze had flicked from assessing Rowan's expression to those of the others there. "There is a chance he may turn on her if we can recruit him to our side. He's one of the lesser protogenos, but his power is still formidable, rivaling the titans, even."

"Where are they?" The question came from Cassian, the first he'd spoken in the presence of Reyna since the his emphatic refusal to lose Rowan on the beach. He'd kept his silence even during the meeting with Rhea, and Reyna was struck once more by the harshness of his voice, the edge to his words, calculated, careful, but fierce, principled. She looked to him, and inclined her head, understanding.

"Most of them have been chained up in Tartarus, specifically our allies. They were our first defense, and kept back those forces till we could evacuate most of humanity. Of those remaining, Atlas and Hyperion are working together to hold up the sky, and Bob works to keep our titan enemies imprisoned," she explained. "We've heard no rumors of Kronos moving." It was a comfort, but the images that had burst from the blade haunted Cassian's mind, and he could not rid himself of the picture of Kronos rising high above him, fiery eyes bent with a maddening destruction upon him. He suppressed a chill that ran down his spine, and Rowan moved an inch closer to him, pressing her arm reassuringly into him.

"We can only assume that the fourth line applies to you, Cassian," the statement came from Romulus, and Cassian turned to the werewolf, reading in there a compassion and a trust. "_And titan's child will stand tall_," he recited, turning his eyes onto the rest of the gathering, awaiting their consensus. It was unanimous, and Cassian rose to meet it with a reassuring bravery in his expression. "Of course," continued Romulus, "we don't quite know what it entails."

"_A lonely road shall lead to doom_," the words came, shivering from Bohdi's lips. He was still pale, though he had regained something of his original constitution, his eyes bright. "Wh- what does that mean?"

All eyes turned to Athena, but the goddess looked disappointed. "I'm afraid I don't know," she said. "But to whomever it applies, I fear it will be a heavy burden to bear."

A pall of dread settled over them, and Clover struggled to break the silence, but his voice started to fail when he recited the next line. It did not bring them much hope. "_And all shall fail at sky's tomb_."

However, Athena's expression seemed to loose its darkness. "There is a rumor," she began before anyone else had the chance to speak, "but it hasn't been confirmed, that the parts of Ouranos's heart that were still floating out in the open were gathered together and placed into something of a tomb by an early cult of demigods that worshipped him as the rightful heir to the earth. If it is true, then the place would be reeking with dark magic, but would also give us a place to hunt for. I can request that Hermes send out scouts to search for it."

She fell silent, and the others looked to Reyna, who was nodding. A glimmer of hope flickered to life in her eyes despite the fore-coming despair predicted by the line. She could only hope it was a defeat that would lead to victory. "Very well," she said. "It gives us a starting point."

"_The exile returns in a chariot of flame_." Rowan's voice rang out, and she met Romulus's eyes, then Morpheus's. "That could refer to any of us three," she said. "The chariot of flame could have been the U-Wing." She winced at the thought of its wreckage, glanced to Romulus, who luckily seemed to have gotten over the momentary tragedy of his ship's loss. Reyna furrowed her brow in confusion and cocked her head. "Spaceship," Rowan corrected, a small laugh bursting from her despite the weight of the atmosphere.

"_A broken world will never be the same_. But broken is not defeated, and there is hope there," the words came from Chirrut, low, intent, his milky white eyes hidden as he angled his head downward. He had not spoken throughout the meeting, preferring to listen closely to the words of those gathered about them, to feel the tones in their voices, the urgency, the despair, the puzzlement, the hope. "The Force is strong," he muttered at the end to punctuate his speech. Reyna furrowed her brow, regarding the man in a quizzical light, but the eyes of the others there were cast down, and the large man beside him was grinning somewhat at them, as if urging forward the conviction of his friend's words.

Rowan was grinning when she looked up, and, bolstered by Chirrut's faith, her tone was brighter than it had been moments before.

"So," she said, fixing her gaze on Reyna. "What's the plan?"


	36. Thirty Five

The darkness of the cavernous room was profound, and the silence of it seemed to seep even into the pores of the rocks, a heavy, unbroken, suffocating blanket of malice. Nothing stirred here, far removed from the petty passage of time and the eternal decay of the earth above; even the cries of the dead below did not reach this impassable chamber, and so the murmuring that stirred through the atmosphere, seeming almost akin to the silence, a part of its weighty oppression, was not the sound of a human voice, but the echoes of breath against the walls.

There was a clang, the dragging of chains, and the smothered stillness seemed shattered, bursting at at the seams as a voice came low, gravely, darker than the ponderous depths of the cavern, the words cold and calculated, without the shade of greeting they might have had in the higher realms that burned with an endless light.

"The catalyst has arrived."

There was the shifting movement of heavy chains that must have weighed the tonnage of mountains, so thunderous was their noise. A moment later, and the cacophony fell back to silence, a deep sighing silence, dreadful in its renewed weight.

A pondering voice spoke, older and rougher than its fellow, rising from deep within the throat. "Good," it said. "Good."

"This is the end."

"The beginning of the end," the second voice corrected. "Now we may begin our assault. I have not yet revealed my full strength to that blithering idiot yet. The time has come for his arrogance to be remedied."

"You mean Hades?"

"I mean Hades. And you, brother?"

"They lose ground hourly against me. I will crush them to the earth they stole."

"Good. They will despair their own weaknesses before the end."

"And the catalyst?"

"He does not know his own power. They set off into the wilds, and he will face no hardship there to draw it from him."

"Good. The stage is set."

There was a low, thunderous laugh, malicious, biting, slithering through the earth. "Let us begin."

\- - -

Cassian's and Rowan's eyes adjusted slowly to the light, or rather the lack thereof, of the small mechanic's shop that Leo had built into a hidden, yet untouched closet in the walls of the Labyrinth. As he had led them along the passageway, both of them sharing confused but hopeful glances, he had constantly referred to it as his palace. They filed into it when they reached it, Rowan already having doubts as to the palace-like nature of the place, and ducking low after hearing a grunt of pain from Cassian, who had knocked his head against the threshold. She bit back laughter and placed a comforting hand on the man's arm as he nursed the bruise that he could already feel forming.

Before them, as they moved tentatively into the dark, Leo seemed to be fumbling for something, and only when light poured painfully into their eyes did Rowan realized he had been looking for a light-switch. With a splutter and a concerning crack, a massive fluorescent bulb hanging above them burst to life, and Rowan winced, ducking behind Cassian, hissing in pain. He himself cringed back from it, raising a hand above his face to shield his eyes.

"Well hello to you to."

The voice, modulated and sarcastic, rang out in the still stuffiness of the room, clear and sharp and filled with that oh-so-familiar brimming laughter, and Rowan and Cassian forgot all their hurts and worries in a moment, straightening as one and leaping past the tables piled high with spare parts and worn paperwork, into the light of the single bulb, and face to face with none other than K.

The droid was reclining upon a bench, his head and other various parts of him hooked up to wires that dangled, sparking dangerously but characteristically for Leo, from the ceiling, arching their way across the room to K, who fixed his once-lifeless eyes upon his old friends.

"_K_!" Cassian's voice rang out, echoing laughter against the walls as he stumbled to a stop, and Rowan found herself fighting back the tears that stung in her eyes. She glanced up into Cassian's face, read the ecstasy in his expression, dancing in his words, and found her heart swelling for him. As he moved forward to the droid, she glanced back to Leo, still positioned by the light-switch beside the door, watching it all with a glimmer of joy in his eyes. Calypso appeared beside him then, hands on her hips, caramel-golden hair thrown back over her shoulders, a satisfied smile in her eyes.

"Thank you," Rowan said then, barely able to speak through the smile that split her cheeks.

"Absolutely no problem," Leo laughed in return, slipping an arm about Calypso's waist. She leaned into him, and Rowan read the happiness there between them, like a brilliant golden flower they had cultivated together. The age that had suffused Leo's face seemed gone, and Rowan was grateful for this respite for him. He certainly deserved it. Grinning, Rowan turned back, eyes dancing in the light of the bulb, watching Cassian and K with a bloom of relief building in her chest.

"He'll need to finish his reconfigurations for the next hour or so," Leo said then, his words directed to Cassian. "But then he'll be good to go. Awesome piece of technology there," he added, in awe of the droid, and remembering the spaceship. "Where'd you come from?" His eyes fell to Rowan's when she turned back from Cassian and K. She opened her mouth to answer then, pondering the best answer for the question. "Outer space" just didn't seem to cut it.

"A galaxy far from here," Cassian said then, and she looked back to see that he was facing Leo.

Leo seemed to be faltering for a response, but his eyebrows were raised in amusement. "Like _Star Trek_?" he asked, and Calypso elbowed him in the side, drawing a grunt from him, a look of exasperation on her face.

Rowan grinned, shrugged. "Something like that."

"Where are we off to next?"

Rowan and Cassian turned to K, who was eyeing them with those shifting mechanical eyes. Rowan remembered they'd somewhat unsettled her when she had first come across a droid like him, but the sight of these were a more beautiful sight to her than Paris, even, and she took a moment to register the question.

"We're hiking to a camp where we'll have a better idea of what's going on," Cassian said, then frowned. In the endless flow of information that they had been receiving ever since their arrival on Earth, he'd forgotten that the droid hadn't been present for most of it. He fumbled for a restart, but Rowan spoke up then, a bitter twist to her lips.

"There was another prophecy."

K stiffened on the bench.

\- - -

"And so we're going to try to find this 'sky's tomb'?" The droid's voice could not have been more incredulous for all its mechanical monotone. Rowan grinned for a moment at the remembrance of K's sarcasm, thankful to have it by their side once more. With some of the scathing remarks he'd had for the both of them and their risky actions when they'd informed him of their travels, Rowan could imagine that all the forces of Tartarus and Ouranos would quail beneath his biting words. But they'd been spoken in love and care, and so Cassian and Rowan were able to shrug off the tone, meet each other's eyes with a flash of laughter and relief, and move on.

It had taken them the whole hour of K's reconfiguration to explain the situation he had found himself in, and even they weren't so sure of the particulars, as everything had happened in a blur, and Rowan had been down for the count throughout most of it. Calypso and Leo had piped up occasionally to clarify the truth, and through them, they'd learned far more about the position that the demigods were in, far more than what they had heard at the meeting.

The whole of the Seven that Rowan had spent the war against Gaea with were split apart. The camp to which they were journeying was commanded by Frank, but Hazel was lost somewhere in the depths of the Labyrinth, exploring it, taming it, saving the humans that might have gotten lost in it. Piper was far, far away from them all, working to gather up allies to their cause, traveling in all manners of ways to reach all manners of gods and titans in some desperate attempt to recruit a force strong enough to hold out a resistance against Ouranos and Tartarus. Calypso was able to provide specifics when it came to Annabeth, and Leo had grown silent then, remembering the haggard look on Percy's face. The two of them had been working their way through the cities and the country, searching for survivors, gathering intel.

Calypso's eyes darkened as she described what the surface had become, something fitting for a blockbuster Apocalypse movie. Beside Cassian, Rowan had stiffened, clenching her fists at the image of her destroyed home. He'd placed a soft hand on her forearm beneath the table, and she had glanced up to him, a sad smile of thanks on her lips, and then the conversation had been over. With the journey before them looming on the horizon, they split up to pack their things. They would set off in the morning, and Leo was to lead them, something that had triggered an anxious look deep in Calypso's eyes. K-2 had followed Cassian and Rowan to the bedchambers of the night before, and watched as they packed, Cassian moving his stuff to Rowan's room.

"That's basically it," Rowan glanced over her shoulder to the droid at his question.

"The prophecy specifically says that 'all shall fail' there. Chance of failure is literally 100%. Why would we pursue that course?" K protested. Rowan averted her eyes, chose not to meet Cassian's, hiding the foreboding in hers.

"Horrible things happen to people who avoid prophecies," she said. "Anyway, it's the only landmark the prophecy gives us to go by. Strange as it sounds, failing is our only hope right now," she shrugged off the despair creeping into her heart. "Let's just hope that Frank has some idea of where it might be. The legend of that tomb was buried for centuries. No one really knew about it except in the form of old wives' tales until the fourteenth century or so. Any clues to its location have probably been lost," there was an ironic hopelessness in her voice.

"What about '_With hope will the sun rise again_'?" Cassian asked then, his expression lost in thought. Rowan looked up from wrestling a blaster she'd kept "for sentimental reasons" into her backpack. "That could refer to Elpis," he elaborated. "She's a protogenoi, too."

"She is, yeah," Rowan nodded. "But only in title. In truth, no one's ever seen her. She could just be a really powerful symbol or something. Anyway," she added, and her voice slipped into helplessness again. "Hemera disappeared years ago. If the sun refers to anything like that in the case of this war, it'll be the protogenoi of the sun, not Apollo."

"How do you know?"

Rowan shrugged again, and Cassian noticed she seemed to be reverting to it a lot. He peered into her eyes, read the tumult there, and understood why. In the face of such profound hopelessness, what else could she do.

"He's also the god of prophecy. If he had been referred to in one, then I have a feeling he would recognize it when it happened. But he didn't seem to," she answered. "'Course I might be wrong." Another shrug.

Satisfied, Cassian nodded, and resumed packing. K watched them as they worked side by side, the occasional muttered "you'll probably need that" and "maybe not so much" running between them, low laughter accompanying some of the comments, and he cocked his head a little to the side. If a droid could show interest, he did, and he said nothing more for the remainder of the time that they spent packing, only observing them closely, the slight nuances of movement, the subtle indications of intent as they worked around and with each other and finished with a flourish, finally straightening, stretching.

"Do you think we'll find what we need at the camp?" K finally asked when they glanced over their work.

Rowan looked back to the droid, then to Cassian, her brow furrowed. In a moment, there was an agreement between them, a shared intention, a shared hope, and she nodded. "I have a good feeling about it."

"Cassian?" the droid looked to his companion, and he looked back, meeting the mechanical eyes. Cassian smiled at the remembrance of their adventures together, too many to be counted, and the trust that had always bound them together, and nodded, mirroring Rowan.

"I do, too," he said.

Rowan smiled, the heaviness of despair lifting from the room for a moment as they basked in the warm peace of hope, three travelers brought together by the tides of fate and breathing now before the next great plunge. Something had changed in her, she realized. No longer did that lonely, tearing desperation drive her, the sleepless, unhinged desire to find her brother having dissipated in the course of the past week or so. The bloodshot, caged animal look had fallen from her eyes, replaced with a cherished laughter that sprung forth as violently as vengeance had beforehand. She met Cassian's eyes, and he hers, and they grinned, forgetful of the world around them for a moment till it came crashing back with a pounding at the door.

Cassian and Rowan started, muscles tense, till Rowan recognized the form glimpsed through the grates. It was another satyr, this one much, much more muscular than Clover or Grover, a tattered orange shirt pulled over his torso, eyes tired but alight with a blaze of fire, a blood red cap pulled over his head and curly hair, and a massive baseball bat swinging from his hand.

"Coach Hedge!" Rowan laughed and leapt to the door, pulling it open, and then falling into the sudden embrace of the satyr, though he barely came up to her shoulder.

"Didn't think you could go on a quest without saying 'hi' now, did you?" he laughed gruffly when he pulled away and she backed up a step, taking him in.

"Of course not," she laughed, but it fell silent then. "I just didn't know where you were, is all."

They all understood the connotation of the phrase. With the widespread destruction, there was no way to anticipate that anyone might be alive.

"Don't worry, Castellan," the satyr said, courageously bypassing the uncertainty in her voice. "It would take more than a pesky wind spirit to take me down."

Rowan laughed in turn, but her eyes still shifted anxiously. Despite all the jokes and the renowned reckless bravery of the satyr, she had a feeling that he, along with everyone else there, had come close to tasting death far too often for their liking. The scent of it had hung heavy in all the places she'd found herself in, and though it was a haunting one, it could not help but remind her of her father. She longed to be with him, and the longing tore at her. She struggled against the images that clouded her vision, fought her way to the surface, and met Coach Hedge's eyes.

"I'm sure it would," she joked, and the satyr smiled, the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes reaching back into his hair line, aging his features more than they already were.

"Well," he said, patting his stomach. "I suppose y'all are hungry, and as it's probably the last good meal you'll get for a while, I think it's time for a nice lunch."


	37. Thirty Six

The night was dark as, well, Nyx, when they stepped out into what ought to have been the morning, though the chill in Rowan's bones and the despair that bubbled like acid in her heart as she fought hard against it made it seem only a continuation of the dark, and endless permeation of the starless depths above, sunk down low to Earth, and so she found herself walking a little closer to K-2 and Cassian as they ventured out. Much like the meeting the day before, they had been given a set time, were expected to arrive, and were, as Reyna awaited them with her hands on her hips, unlikely to escape impending doom should they miss the time for departure.

Cassian, Rowan, and K were the first to arrive aside from Reyna and Romulus, who had declared solemnly, and with much consternation from the others, that he would not be taking the journey with them, that he was far more necessary here. The Earth, he'd said after their many protestations, was not his territory, and so he would only slow them down, with nothing to offer in return. Even now, standing in the dark, arms folded across his chest, eyes old despite the vigor of strength in his body, he observed the world about him as a foreigner, and Rowan could not help but understand.

The world Romulus once knew had already changed much in the centuries since his exile, but even she found the Earth starkly different from the one that she had grown up in, that she had lived happily in for most of her life. Had it not been for the familiarity of the atmosphere, the rich feeling of earth and trees and sea about her, the recognizable scent of home that she breathed, she felt she might have mistaken Earth for one of the planets she had just left. She glanced to Cassian, noting the furrowed expression on his face, and wondered how odd this was for him.

The others trickled out slowly from headquarters, taking the back exit so they faced not the beach that sloped downward into the depths of the sea, but the path that lay before them: a week-long hike though the wasteland of North America to Asheville, North Carolina, where Reyna assured them that Frank would be waiting. She had explained that his camp was something of a headquarters, a temporary stronghold in a hostile territory, and so the best place for them to begin their search for Ouranos's tomb. According to her, the journey there would be relatively safe, as the scouts they had between here and there were skilled and had reported no overwhelming amount of activity, and so rest that night had not been as fitful as it might have, and the bags beneath the eyes of the others were small.

Bohdi arrived first, on his own, a small backpack thrown over his shoulder, and the same feverish look from before in his eyes. He did not speak much as he reached them, withholding his comments to a simple muttered good morning. Cassian and Rowan had also been silent, only the whirring of K-2's joints as he turned about to take in the environment breaking the rustling quiet of the still-sleeping world. Luke, Jyn, and Clover came next, stepping slowly up the slight incline to them. Clover's eyes were wide and bloodshot, struggling against sleep. He, too, would not be coming with them, staying back to help his brother in the care of the demigods there at headquarters, and Rowan saw the sad glint in Luke's eye at the prospect of facing the long journey ahead without the satyr. It was one thing to lose Romulus, but another thing altogether to lose Clover.

The three of them made their way across the space, shivering in the morning breeze, to stand with Rowan, Cassian, Bohdi, and K, nodding their greetings and turning their eyes onto the sea shack to await the last of their party. Reyna, glancing at her watch, and Romulus moved forward to join them, followed by the beautiful figure of Hebe, goddess of youth and cupbearer of the gods, gliding forward in her shimmering green robes behind the two Romans, the light pouring from her features a sharp contrast to the hard-set grimness of theirs. When they arrived, Reyna glanced down at her watch again, frowned, then looked up.

"Any minute now," she mumbled to herself, looking anxiously over her shoulder to headquarters.

They came that instant, though, six of them at once pouring out of headquarters, voices loud and defiantly boisterous, laughing despite the heavy oppressiveness of the night still settled over them. They were Percy, Leo, Calypso, Baze, Chirrut, and Morpheus. Rowan did not begin to reflect on how small their party was till she realized that, of those six, Leo would be the only one accompanying them. The others merely came to say their goodbyes, and Rowan hoped that their goodbyes would not be eternal ones. She glanced to Cassian, sought comfort in the courage deep within him.

The group grew quieter as they came closer, but they had already shattered the weight of dread that hung over them all, and now they were at liberty to move with less restrained motions, stretching and yawning and meeting each others' eyes to read their the states of their friends. Rowan yawned widely, stretching her arms up over her head and arching her back till there were the small pops in her spine and she fell back into her usual posture with a satisfied grin. Hope returned to her features, and to Cassian's when she met his gaze, something of an amused smile on his lips.

"Well, good morning, my dear friends!" The cry came from Leo, who raised a hand high in greeting as they grew nearer. "Ready for a walk?" he laughed the question, and received a small elbow from Calypso at his side. Rowan tried not to notice the sad look in Percy's eyes, allowing him the dignity of privacy. Luke, too, noticed it, and his eyes fell to his feet, kicking at a root in the earth.

"Ready as we'll ever be," Rowan answered, yawning again, moving forward to Percy, first in line, and wrapping her arms about him in a warm hug. And so they moved, the demigods and friends shuffling past each other, embracing briefly, then lost to the current till their time was nearly up and they stood in a small cluster, the whispering crash of the ocean close beside them, peering into each others' faces beneath the blanket of darkness, wrestling with the anticipation of the journey ahead.

Cassian and Rowan moved to Baze and Chirrut, bidding their farewells, Chirrut taking one of their hands in each of his, holding them there, scrutinizing them with the milky white haze of his eyes as he did so.

"The Force be with you," he mumbled, letting them fall, a small, hopeful smile slipping across his features. They breathed in the solemnity of the moment, but soon they had the air crushed from their lungs by Baze, who swept in from the left and took them up in a massive bear hug, crushing them against each other and against his chest with a grunt and an exhale like a hurricane gust from his lungs.

Rowan found herself laughing as she extricated herself from the weighty embrace of their friend, glancing to Cassian as he readjusted his clothes, peering up into Baze's face with a smile of thanks, a chuckle building in his chest, too, hair windblown by Baze's lungs. Rowan bit her lip, forcing down the rippling giggles that threatened to break forth, and placed a hand on Baze's arm, grinning brightly as she met his eyes.

"Thanks, Baze," Cassian said then, glancing to Rowan. "It was an honor, and I hope we'll see you soon," he added, careful not to end on the sinking note in his voice. Rowan's smile lost a little of its luster, fading, nearly falling, were it not for the gentle gratitude that still flickered in her eyes.

"I bid you farewell, my brother and sister," Baze said, nodding, placing a hand on their shoulders, holding them close, unyielding, gaze swinging back and forth to meet their eyes. "May your journey be swift, and may the challenges you face serve only to strengthen you."

And, with that, he had turned, moving now to sweep up an unsuspecting Jyn in his embrace. Rowan looked to Cassian, met his eyes, read the reassurance in his smile, and moved with him in the direction of Percy and Clover, watching closely the proceedings, having bid farewell to the shivering Bohdi, who now stood off to the side, glancing over his shoulder with curiosity to headquarters, shaking something from his mind till he was approached by Leo and Calypso, the both of them smiling sadly, moving from where they stood near the shack, speaking together in low voices, parting with a soft, tender kiss, till Leo pulled away, eyes sad, moving hesitantly from the soft arms of Calypso. There was a heartbreaking pain in her eyes as he stepped back from her, her hands lingering, trembling, on his arms, as if to hold tightly to him once more before the endless night of Nyx grew like a chasm between them, but there was something sure in Leo's eyes, a hard resolution that she trusted.

Rowan glanced to Cassian then, a curious expression on her face, before she met Percy's eyes, watching their approach. He held out his arms when she drew near for one last hug, and she took it, breathing in the smell of the sea upon him, smiling at the memories of their adventures, at the glint of adrenaline in his eyes then as it had always been when she met his gaze, pulling back.

Rowan was called suddenly away then by Romulus, who stood off to the side, watching an exchange passing between K and Hebe farther off, the goddess's features hard and intent upon the droid before her, studying his metallic face as she listened to the words that poured in a murmur from him. She glanced between Clover and Percy, an urgent farewell in her expression, wrapping her arms about Clover one last time, but the grimness of Romulus's tone pulled at her, and she soon disappeared, jogging off in the direction of the werewolf.

Cassian looked back to Percy, of whom he had heard so much, and Clover, whose eyes watched him with a glinting laughter, and smiled quietly, furrowing his brow. Percy stepped forward, a laugh brewing in his eyes, and placed a hand on his shoulder confidentially.

"Good luck, mate," he chuckled, glanced to Rowan, and Cassian laughed gently in turn, understanding.

"Thanks," he smiled, met the eyes of the man with a grin, and moved onward, nodding his farewell to them, shifting the weight of his backpack on his shoulders, stepped over the grass, the dips and rises in the dirt, till he reached Bohdi and came to a halt beside him.

"Ready?" he breathed low, exhaling the word through a small crevice in his lips, scanning the small field and the demigods and gods gathered there.

"I- I suppose now wouldn't be the time to say otherwise," Bohdi said lowly, his voice a restrained laugh, glancing over to Cassian.

A wide grin split Cassian's features, and he chuckled, then looked to the approaching Morpheus, met the eyes of the first god he'd met in the madness that had been his life for the past week or so. Morpheus was moving slowly over the grass, wearing again the shimmering robes in which Cassian had first seen him, the multicolored fabric of it grazing gently the shoots of grass in the deep night. The bags beneath his eyes had softened somewhat, and there was more of the life in them that Cassian had expected from an immortal. He held out a hand in greeting, met the two of them with a smile, and Cassian grinned wryly, remembering all that had happened over the short course of time since he had first met the god.

\- - -

"We both know that the shadow of the prophecy could very much refer to you, Rowan," Romulus's voice was low, and he glanced about, sure he was not overheard, sparing the dignity and the anxiety of his young friend.

Rowan's eyes grew dark. "It could, yes," she allowed, inclining her head.

"And if it does?" Romulus looked to her, met her gaze heavily. "What then?"

Rowan's expression hardened, and she nodded, understanding his meaning. She opened her mouth to speak, sucked in a breath, paused, then resumed her efforts before she was cut off by the werewolf once more.

"I don't question your powers," he said. "You saved your brother's life with them, and that was no small feat, but the exile has sapped you. It's sapped me," he elaborated, looked down to his grip on his sword-hilt, hung firmly at his side.

Rowan swallowed, nodded, then met his eyes. "Romulus," she began, faltered, "I was only able to save Luke because I _needed_ to. Any other time that I've used it, it's been weak. But if the prophecy does refer to me," she paused, sucked in a weighty breath that sunk into her lungs, "then we can hope that I'll _need_ the strength then as I needed it for Luke. But voluntarily, they do little."

Romulus nodded gravely. "I knew that," he said, and his voice was soft and low as he met her eyes. "It's a comfort to recognize that you do, too. Reyna said that you used them very little in the fight against Gaea."

Rowan inclined her head in confirmation. "She's right," she said. "But the prophecy will be fulfilled, and we can't stop it. If I am the shadow it speaks of, I'll be ready when I need to be."

"And if the effort kills you? Are you ready to face that?" Romulus's eyes peered deep within hers. intent, unwavering, but she met them with the same magnitude of honesty.

A small smile lifted up the corner of her lips. "I've been ready to face that since I was born, Romulus. I won't retreat in the face of it now."

Romulus grinned sadly, but there was a regard for her growing in his eyes, and he nodded, gripping her forearm as she did his, muscles rippling beneath her skin, her fingers hard and reassuring on him.

"I trust you," he returned, and there was a sorrow in his expression. He paused, sucked in a deep breath, then continued. "I am sorry that this lot has fallen to you."

Rowan shrugged, a wry smile on her lips. "It's never our choice though, is it?"

"No," Romulus agreed, raised his eyebrows, let loose the tension building in his chest. "I wish you the best of luck."

Rowan nodded her gratitude, let her arm fall back to her side. "Same to you," she said, a flicker of a smile on her lips.

\- - -

Luke watched Rowan walk from Romulus to Cassian, moving with a measured stride over the uneven earth, glancing down at the dips and rises she tripped over, a helpless look of ironic laughter on her features, her eyes glittering with the growing adrenaline building within her. Luke grinned, glancing back to Percy beside him, who watched her with the same amusement. Jyn, no longer with him, had been detained by the effusive attentions of Baze and Chirrut, referred to with a gently spoken "little sister", bringing a confused look to Luke's face, but a smile to his lips.

"You're gonna have to watch them," Percy said then, jerking Luke from his reverie, and Luke let out a laugh at the comment, following Percy's gaze to where Rowan greeted Cassian, Bohdi, and Leo once more, taking her place beside Cassian and letting her gaze fall to the grass, glancing occasionally up to her companions. "She'd kill herself for him, you know. According to Morpheus, she already almost did."

Luke's smile fell to a concentrated frown, and he raised his eyebrows, nodding. "She skimmed over that part when she told me, then. 'Course that makes sense," he chuckled.

"I think we both know what that means," Percy grinned, and Luke met his gaze, forcing his own grin onto his lips, fighting against the dread building in his heart for the sake of his sister.

"You're probably not wrong," he agreed, raising his eyebrows once more, shrugging a little, turning his gaze upon her.

She met his eyes then, noticed the significance there, the slight twitch of his irises in the direction of Cassian, and understood then the nature of his discussion. He cocked his head slightly to the side, prodding forth the question once more, the question that had haunted her for years now, but knowing the answer, and watching with remorse the glittering amusement in her eyes fade to a grim despair with a barely perceptible shake of the head, and he remembered then the night that it had happened.

They'd been wandering the streets, the sun long set, the shadows of the cookie-cutter suburban homes cast across the pavement still cooling from the heat of the day, hunger tearing at them till the hallucinations of the heat became the hallucinations of their craving, and they stumbled on in a fog of unreality. They had seen him then, rising up from the sweltering street ahead, a thin, tall form, robed and shrouded, hard, red eyes peering from beneath the white of the cotton hood, a grim set to his lips.

Rowan had stiffened then, noticing the spectre before he did, tugging at the small knife in her belt, her eyes brightening with that burning vibrance they always had before the fight came, lips set in a challenging snarl, though their corners were turned up in something of a smile, her mind lost to the adrenaline pumping in her veins. They had always joked that, were it not for the dangers that beset them daily, she would have turned to cocaine long ago, and so was the expression upon her features now, the high of battle, better than a drug, but he had been late to catch it, for already she was urging them forward at faster speeds, and he stumbled alongside her, pulling at his own knife, straining through the intensity of the heat to discern their opponent.

The spectre seemed only to grow farther and farther away till they were convinced they'd been pursuing a mirage, and they slowed together, exhausted, the adrenaline falling from their limbs, sucked out with all the force of the sun's heat sucking strength from their limbs, and so they came to a halt upon the empty highway extending out into the growing night, stumbling to a stop against a tall tree, resting themselves against it, sinking to the earth. He'd thrown his head back, letting his face feel the shadow of the branches in the dying sun play across his features till his eyes drifted down to Rowan, saw her huddled against the hunger-pangs into the trunk, a grimace disfiguring the face that once held more youth than the flowers sprouting in the roots of the tree.

With an exhale that burst from deep within him, hopeless, floundering, lost in the guilt for the suffering of his sister beside him, he let his eyes slip closed into the harsh dreams of starvation that burned his eyes like acid in the morning when he woke. Beside him, Rowan went limp, asleep, leaning into him, and then the spectre returned.

He had been standing over them for a time, Luke thought when he woke, looking up into the leering face of it, the bright red eyes set into hard pale features staring him down with a harsh grin.

Luke had shifted, Rowan still heavy on his arm, and spoke, pulling the spectre's attention from his sister, upon whom its heavy gaze had fallen.

"Are you death?" he had asked, but the question was not quite as courageous as he had wished.

The spectre had turned upon him, laughed a low, eery laugh that brought chills to his spine, settled into his veins like ice. "No," the spectre grinned, "though I can understand the confusion. I am Eros," he said then. "I am Love."

"Why are you here?" The question had come from Rowan, who had straightened, her eyes hard, scrutinizing the spectre with intensity, fingering her blade.

"For you, Rowan Castellan," it had said then, eyes hard as hers.

"What do you want?" Her tone had not changed, steely, biting, and Eros seemed to step back a moment, raise his eyebrows, impressed, a smirk on his lips.

"To tell you what the Fates have told me. You will taste my cruelty in the future, but I will not be so cruel as to keep my silence," he explained, watched her shift her weight, turning to face him fully, eyes bright and wary.

"And what is that?" There was no tremble in her voice.

Eros had stepped back once more, met her eyes with a cold laugh. "The Fates decree this; you, Rowan Castellan, are marked for death. You will not taste love until then." And then the spectre had disappeared, fading into the evening breeze that brought a long-desired chill to the stifled earth.


	38. Thirty Seven

Reyna's farewell speech was short, simple, to the point, something along the lines of "good luck, don't die", and then they were off, anonymous figures fading into the twilit world, following Leo, whose boisterous attitude had faded somewhat with his last embrace of Calypso, the two parted once more. K-2 had been the last to join them, and Cassian was watching the droid with confusion, for he had spent the entirety of their time with the others speaking to Hebe, off to the side, and the words had been too low for even Cassian's practiced hearing to catch. K's pensive silence did nothing to clear the fog of confusion that brought a frown to Cassian's lips. He kept glancing to Rowan to impart his impressions upon a similarly curious mind, but her attention was elsewhere.

As they entered into the copse of trees just before them, leading out into the hollowed suburbia of what was once a Floridian town, she was glancing back over her shoulder, and he saw the churning in her eyes. She met Romulus's gaze briefly, and something flashed between them, but it was gone, replaced by a solemn nod, and she turned back to the group before her, glanced to Luke, watching her, and her expression shifted, or something in it shifted, and Cassian remained in the clutches of confusion, doing his best to throw himself into the pondering of others, rather than face his own musings, but like quicksand, he was sinking rapidly into them, and they were closing up about him.

Though there had been no rumors of Kronos's movements, he could not trust that the titan was truly out of the picture. Past history pointed the other direction, and his face, rearing up in the images from the siren's mangled corpse, was far too vivid and far too unsettling to be merely a passing threat. Rowan had suspected as much, too. Her face when he'd recounted for her the visions he'd seen had been grave, intent, harrowed by experience and anticipation. And, more than that, he could feel it in his blood. The titan within him seemed to relish in his arrival upon Earth, and Cassian began to doubt the comforts of Morpheus when he'd questioned him as to whether or not the evil of his father- he detested the word- had been passed to him as well as the power. Releasing a pent-up breath, clenching his fists, he swore to himself the doubts would pass, that they would never see the light of reality, and, distracted from her own reverie, Rowan glanced up to him in concern, read there the worry in his features.

He was not as steady as he had been when she'd first met him. The hardness of the captain that had extracted her from the prison cell on Jedha had faded somewhat, and she couldn't blame him. The rug had been ripped from beneath his feet more times in the past few days than it ever had in her whole life. The world had flipped completely inside out for him, and he had been left standing, reeling, questioning the truth of even the things that need not be doubted. Desperate to comfort him, she nudged him, pulling his attention back to the world about them. They hadn't been walking long, now moving in an unorganized clump down empty streets, across cracked pavement.

Battle had touched this area; cars were tossed into the roofs of the homes, gaping holes had been carved into walls. Through some of them, Rowan could glimpse the desolate image of children's rooms, still marked by the effusive personalities of their old inhabitants, but empty. The frantic signs of hurry marred what might have originally been order, and she felt as if they walked through a photograph, the last movements of the families laid out before them, as if they were walking through the preserved ruins of Pompeii. A chill ran down her spine, and she looked about herself to take in the expressions of the others there. They appeared to be suffering beneath the same impression, and a blanket of silence had fallen over them.

Rowan met Cassian's eyes, and he smiled reassuringly upon her. She grinned her gratitude, but was jerked from her focus on him as she stumbled into Bohdi. She let out a small "oh" of surprise, and he apologized as profusely as he could in the whisper that sunk his voice, that sunk all their voices, into near silence. They steadied each other, Cassian reaching out to help them till they had righted themselves, and Rowan saw that Bohdi was looking feverish. Keeping her voice low beneath the scraping footsteps of the group of them on the pavement, she looked him over, spoke.

"You okay, mate?" she asked, her hand still on his shoulder, peering into his features.

Bohdi nodded, swallowing heavily. "Just a little out of it." Cassian and Rowan did not let go their concern, still hovering in their eyes, and he looked somewhat irritated. "I'm fine," he reasserted, and Rowan raised her eyebrows.

"Alright," she told him, and she turned back to Cassian. Her eyes grazed over his for a moment, and he nodded. Together, the three of them jogged to catch up with the others that had continued trudging, too lost in the monotony to notice their momentary absence.

Rowan sucked in a deep breath; this would be a long hike.

\- - -

They set up camp twelve hours later, limbs aching even into their bones, but Leo had set a relatively good pace that wasn't too heavy on their joints, and they'd covered a lot of distance in the first stage of their trek. But according to Leo's calculations, five more days of the hike remained, and Rowan lowered herself onto the trunk of the overturned tree with a groan as her legs protested the sudden change in position. Cassian sunk to the trunk beside her, rubbing his eyes, his legs quivering a little at the sudden relief. He looked up from running his hands down his features and met her eyes. The same exhaustion sat there, and she sent him a small, tight-lipped smile of understanding.

The trek had been silent, which Rowan found very uncharacteristic of Leo and quite disappointing, but parting with Calypso had taken something out of him, and his expression was weary. However, the twelve hour walk seemed to have restored a little of his usual temperament, and so it was with a smile that he suggested that they make a fire.

"Yes," Rowan breathed out in relief. "Let's." And she stood, shattering the silence, her muscles screaming with the sudden movement, but her heart refreshed at the idea of light and warmth.

There was plenty of wood scattered about them by the hurricane-force winds of Ouranos's attack, but they tried to put it from their mind as they collected what scraps of wood they felt up to the challenge of lifting till they had gathered together a good-sized pile in the center of the clearing of the forest they'd entered some time ago. Leo set to work on lighting the fire as the others settled about it, lowering themselves to the earth. Even K reposed on the trunk, eyes scanning the faces of the others as the fire burst to life and warmed their paling features.

A laugh erupted from Rowan's lips at the warmth that sprung into existence, and she settled back, crossing her legs beneath her and folding her hands in her lap and taking in the cheer that had suffused the faces of her friends. Leo gazed into the fire, eyes unfocused, but no longer troubled, and so the silence was not as heavy as it had been for the majority of the hike, and they were heartened by the gentleness of it. Finally, and with a laugh in his eyes, he looked up, met Luke's gaze from across the bed of flames.

"So, how was outer space?" he laughed, and Luke looked amused, glancing to Rowan with raised eyebrows.

She let out a shout of laughter, her eyes traveling to Cassian in a split second, then returning to Leo just as quickly. Luke was chuckling as he responded.

"There was a lot," he said, grinning. "Like _Star Trek_, but real, you know, so there was so much more, and it became more complex because of that."

Leo nodded. "That's what I've heard." He looked to Cassian, Jyn, and Bohdi, but Bohdi had lost himself in contemplation of the fire, and there was a blissful, curious smile on his features. "How'd you guys meet?"

Rowan smirked. "I got arrested," she said, and glanced to Cassian, who grinned widely.

"For some reason, I'm not surprised," Leo chuckled lowly. He looked to Cassian. "Did you do the arresting?"

"No," Cassian looked as if to say he was happy he didn't, letting out the word in a jestingly long breath, and Rowan laughed, rocking back and forth in the happiness that had filled her. "We needed her to help us. We broke her _out_ of prison."

Rowan gasped in mock offense. "As a matter of fact, I was breaking _myself_ out. You just helped."

Cassian shot her a sarcastic look. "Of course. Yes, I forgot," he looked back to Leo, grinning. "We _helped_ break her out of prison."

"In order for me to help them break _her_ out of prison," Rowan added, gesturing to Jyn, whose cheeks were rosy in the firelight and the peace that had settled over them all, a sanctuary of light in the depths of Nyx.

"Wait," Leo laughed, waving his hands to stop them. "Who's 'we'?"

Cassian's face fell somewhat, but he retained his smile with a valiant effort, and Rowan brushed up her elbow against his arm in a soft reassurance. "The Rebellion," he explained.

Leo looked incredulous with amazement, an excited smile spreading across his features as he settled into his position, as if to settle in for a fascinating story. "A _rebellion_?" he glanced to Rowan. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

Rowan laughed despite the unsettled compassion for her friend in her heart. She glanced to Cassian. "Leo loves anything that has to do with overthrowing governments," she told him, providing context.

Cassian smiled in return, thankful for the empathy in her eyes, before he looked back to Leo. "There's the Empire," he told him. "They're a fallen republic. They voted someone into power that they shouldn't have. The Rebellion's the only hope we-," he paused, "they have."

He glanced to Jyn, and saw the sorrow for her father there, brewing in her expression. The heaviness of the silence seemed to return for a moment, and Leo looked remorseful, digging within his mind for another subject, one not quite so painful, but none came, and so the awkward weight of the quiet settled there, and they begged release as one, with no escape till Rowan shot to her feet, forcing a dancing adrenaline into her eyes.

The others started in surprise, Cassian beginning to rise as well, eyes looking about him in panic for whatever oncoming threat she may have spotted, but she laughed, and met his eyes.

"There's nothing," she told him, then gestured to Luke, meeting his gaze with a jovial challenge. He smirked in understanding and rolled his eyes. "Brother mine," she said with a ringing laugh in her voice. "How abut we exercise those aged limbs of yours."

Luke raised his eyebrows. "Says the person who groans in pain every time she moves."

Rowan's eyes flashed triumphantly. "I bet you haven't used a sword in years," she told him, glancing to Backbiter, strapped to his hip and extending out behind him.

Leo laughed and clapped his hands together. "Winner gets half my portion of beef jerky," he threw in, and Luke looked to him, eyes crinkled in laughter. Rowan faltered, the hand that had been pointing to Luke falling with an anticlimactic weight to her side.

"Beef jerky?" she said, twisting her lips in disgust, looking unimpressed.

Leo grinned, chuckled, and shrugged. "Best we got."

Rowan raised her eyebrows in a grudging acceptance and turned back to Luke. "Alright," she said, and then concentrated on the ring glinting on her hand, the one begging to be used. "Éla!" she commanded, and the sword sprung to life, extending out above Cassian's head, and burning with its brilliant, lively darkness in the night. Awe split Leo's face, and he looked up to her, distracting her from her attention upon Luke.

"Where'd you get that?" Leo asked, thoroughly impressed.

"My father," she told him, glancing at him with a brilliant smile on her lips, a glowing, rejoicing look in her eyes before she turned back to Luke, and the higher light in them faded to the jesting look from before. "I challenge you, Luke Castellan, to a battle over half of Leo's…," here she paused, raised her eyebrows with a grin, "beef jerky. Do you accept?"

With a sigh, not unkind, Luke shrugged and stood, brushing off the dirt from his jeans as he did so, then drawing Backbiter with a practiced hand. "Do I have a choice?"

Rowan laughed. "No- you're my brother, and you're stuck with me."

Luke grinned and nodded. "I suppose that's a good enough reason," he said, and followed her near the edge of the firelight, away from the others that had turned their faces toward the siblings. With one last glance to Cassian, her eyes glinting, hoping to impart to him the same vigor in her own heart, she turned to Luke, settled into her muscles, and watched him closely, remembering the training they'd done in the camp. Though his limbs were a little rusty with disuse, she knew the inherent strength in him, and the muscle memory that guided his movements, the skill of the blade so knit into the fibre of his being that his sword seemed a natural extension of him. And especially with Backbiter.

But Rowan had not been idle in her time chasing him, up in "outer space", though she could not help but feel the term was crass in relation to the spectrum of life that hid upon all those planets of the night sky. She'd lived among a myriad of tribes there, all with their own unique styles of fighting, and the sword gifted her by her father was perfectly weighted to her, made specifically for her by a god who knew her well enough to anticipate nearly all of her movements. Luke, however, did not know her so well, or, she smirked, did not know the desert tribes of Jedha so well, and she leapt forward, surprising him with the suddenness of her offensive attack.

He backpedaled a few steps, working hard to gain his bearings, and then he realized, in the few glimpses of her eyes that he could catch as he parried her furious blows, that this was not an idle challenge to pass the time till sleep reached all their feverish thoughts, but a statement, an explanation of who she had become in their years apart, a begging invitation for them to become reacquainted, not to focus simply on past memories of their childhood, but to greet each other as they were now, and they were, in so many ways, new people. While the foundations of who they had been in youth had remained, there was much that was altered in its manifestations, and Rowan needed Luke to understand the newness of her, and she needed to understand the newness of him. And so, viewing the playfully suggested duel for what it was, a conversation, Luke threw himself into it with renewed vigor, and the battle truly began.

The two parried, swirled, sliced, and charged, moving in a wild dance about the fireplace and their audience with the skill that was natural to them, the skill of the fight. Rowan's new methods were indeed foreign to Luke, and it was all he could to hold what little ground he had beneath the attacks of her blade, attacks that seemed to rely solely on his inexperience, and so he began to anticipate them, to counter them, now forcing her backward a few steps, meeting her twisting advance midway till she realized he had learnt her secret, and she smirked, eyes alight, and threw herself into the next varied pattern.

On and on and on they fought, till sweat poured from their limbs and their muscles quivered, not prepared for this second onslaught of effort after the long hike, but they reveled in the exhaustion, the familiar exhaustion as opposed to the permeating one of the long trek, glad to be back within the whirling, flashing confines of this particular form of combat, and Rowan decided, then and there, that blasters were all well and good, but nothing, nothing, could quite match the feeling of a steady hilt in the hand and the great heave of muscle it took to maneuver it. She was laughing now, fey, bright, daring more and more reckless moves till Luke was all but exhausted with countering them till she made her first mistake and left open her right leg. He lunged for it, and she was only able to jerk it out of the way at the last minute, stumbling to the side before she conquered the momentum and used it to her own advantage, retreating a bit to analyze his charge, then rising to meet it.

They fought till they were heaving for breath, and then Leo's voice rang out, laughing despite the concern that hovered at the edge of it, raising his hands to call for it to end.

"Good fight!" he cried. "Good fight! You can split the beef jerky!"

Rowan and Luke stumbled to a halt, sweat pouring from them, muscles trembling, and half leaning on each other, but beaming in furious denial of the power of Nyx. Rowan laughed, choking on the air that rushed into her lungs, and clasped her brother's hand, pulling him into a conciliatory hug, just as he did her.

"Alright," she gasped out. "Good fight, mate, good fight." Here she let out a burst of laughter and then choking again, coughing, gagging for air before she regained her composure, and grinned mischievously. "I guess you're not so old as I thought you were."

Luke laughed, a ringing one that rippled through them all with brilliant joy, and patted her on the back as they moved once more to the fireplace, settling again in their old positions. With the command, Rowan's sword slipped back to a ring, and she placed it reverently upon her finger, looking up to meet the faces of those about her, the silent smile of remembrance on her face once more. Cassian grinned with her, for her, and then Leo interrupted.

"Alright," he said, still chuckling. "Dinnertime." He turned to the duffel beside him, and began to dig through it for the food; Cassian saw it to consist of slices of bread, a few water-bottles, and thin black packages with hardened meat inside. He glanced to Rowan, saw the disgusted look on her face, and smirked with amusement.

She looked to Luke. "You can have my share of the winnings," she told him, and he laughed.


	39. Thirty Eight

"I suppose I should cut them some slack, right?" Rowan glanced back to Cassian, walking steadily behind her as she spoke. There was a smirk on his lips, and she rolled her eyes, looking back to her path, slowing a little for him to draw closer. He was soon at her side, and she regretted momentarily the agitation that had caused her to speed on so quickly.

"Probably," he told her.

"And Jyn's a good person," Rowan admitted, glancing up to meet his eyes. "So it's not like I _disapprove_ but still…," she trailed off, gestured absentmindedly to the world about her.

"I'm sure, if they do anything," Cassian comforted, coming up beside her and glancing down at her with a gentle smirk, "they'll wait till all of this is over."

"My brother and Jyn Erso," she sighed after a moment of pondering, and she could not help the laugh that rose to her lips then. "With how our family goes, I really shouldn't be surprised."

Beside her, Cassian smiled brilliantly, thanking her wordlessly for the lightheartedness of her tone. In the heavy shades of night that fell upon them, any respite from the sinking despair was a sorely needed one. She grinned in turn, casting off the discontentment, and they slipped back into silence.

"Do you have a problem with him and Jyn?" Cassian's voice was concerned, but it was not the weighty anxiety of their other troubles, and so Rowan's voice was just as relaxed when she answered.

"It's not that I have a problem with it…," she began, trailing off, then opening her mouth to continue, but she was cut off.

"It's just that you do," Cassian laughed, and she joined him, and their voices rang out in mirth for the first time in quite a while.

The past four days of walking had been dull, depressing, and monochromatic. It seemed that Nyx's darkness was waxing in strength with each passing hour, and it had been all they could do to keep up their spirits beneath the weight of the crushing black. Finally, the dry heat of the southern landscape had let up that morning, and rain had poured down from the heavens, wetting and refreshing their upturned faces, but also dampening any possible firewood. And so Rowan and Cassian had volunteered for an expedition into the woods to find anything that had been spared by the deluge. Rowan found herself settling into the rhythm of Cassian's pace and his silence once more, and she could not help but notice the easy breaths that came and went from her.

_Just like old times_. The phrase was loud in her ears, and she jerked her head up and about in confusion. Cassian glanced over, concerned, and watched her with a furrowed brow, but her eyes were bent warily upon the shadows of the forest, and she did not notice his attentions.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice involuntarily sinking to a whisper.

Rowan glanced back to him, a troubled look in her eyes that she wrestled against, struggling to play it off as a passing concern. "I though I heard something," she mumbled, her voice not as strong as it had been a moment ago.

Cassian nodded, and his hand went involuntarily to the knife strapped to his hip, his fingers slipping about the hilt, wishing, he thought in passing, for a longer blade and regretting his own obstinate refusal to bring his. But he knew his own skill with the knife, remembering the field missions in which it had been his only asset, and contented himself with the knowledge that, if nothing else, his experiences with Rowan had attuned him to her patterns, and her to his, and so there was a mutual trust there, one that he found himself immensely grateful for at the moment.

Nothing stirred in the darkness around them as they crept forward, moving nimbly now, and even when Rowan mumbled that "it might have been nothing", they did not relax the tension in their muscles. Rowan glanced to Cassian, read the caution in his expression, and shifted the weight in her shoulders. To her mind came, inevitably, the images of hers and Luke's meeting with Eros on the lonely suburban highway, and she pushed them from her mind. Now was not the time, she told herself. There would never be a time, and her heart sunk.

_Oh, my dear… I am not despair, though I may feel sickening. Have you not learned? I will strip from you everything you have, Rowan Castellan, but I will not take your hope. Truly you must know that._

The voice was louder in Rowan's mind now, and she froze, halting in her tracks, commanding her blade into existence with a harsh, robotic voice, and then Cassian stilled, tensed, sunk into his quivering muscles, and poised himself for attack. Beside him, Rowan did the same, but there was a bloodshot hardness to her eyes, and not the adrenaline-fueled energy he usually read there. This was a fight she did not believe she would win, he realized, and he steadied himself, steadied the knife in his hands, and promised himself he would win it for her if he could, but her eyes were not on him, rather they were tracing the outlines of the trees about her, scanning them for a form she would recognize the moment she saw it.

It came soon enough, and her muscles turned to stone, or was it lead, at the sight of the spectre moving through the trees toward them, glinting and pale, cold and bright. As it drew nearer, Rowan struggled against the rage in her muscles to straighten, letting her blade fall to her side. She glanced to Cassian, then, and he saw that her face was transformed, no longer the laughing and fierce warrior he had grown to know in the past few days, but the woman he had released from her cell the morning of her interrogation with Mon Mothma, her features aged, worn, bearing all the exhaustion of the fruitless pursuit that had consumed so many years of her life.

"This isn't an enemy we can fight," she told him then, gesturing for him to lower the short, gleaming blade of his knife. "He only wishes to speak."

Cassian eyed her a moment, unmoving, muscles quivering, and then he nodded, lifting himself up from his stance, then turning to face the approaching figure, moving without sound through the forest, illuminating a little the trunks of the trees as he passed by them, coming slowly into view till Cassian met eyes of a warm and burning red, set large within the features of a youth with tousled golden hair, a limber frame, and clothes of white. Behind him, he dragged large wings of a blinding purity, untarnished by the dirt that brushed against the bottoms of them till he came to a stop in the small clearing where they waited.

There was a tugging in Cassian's heart then, pulling him inexplicably toward the god, tearing through him and bringing forth wealths of pain and joy that seemed to slice his heart in two, and Cassian knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the god before them was none other than Eros. With the debilitating effect of his presence, Cassian did not doubt that, of all the other Olympians and other immortals, Eros was by far the deadliest. Cassian remembered what Rowan had told him of the god on Eadu.

_"What did he say?" he'd asked then._

_"Nothing he hasn't said before," she'd told him. "Run-ins with love aren't always happy."_

The tension was back in her shoulders, her muscles tight, her face drawn, but her voice, when it rang out into the clearing, defying the dead heaviness of the night, was stronger than it had been moments earlier, and Cassian wished he could understand the weight that she bore in the god's presence.

"Well, this is a surprise," she forced a laugh into her voice. "Two visits with you in the course of what- two weeks?"

Eros smiled, his lips parting to reveal brilliantly white teeth in an expression at once cruel and intoxicating. Cassian pulled his gaze from the god to Rowan, saw in her eyes a cold shield against the effects, but there was turmoil behind it, and he knew that she had felt the same wrenching pain that he had. Love's weapon was memory.

"I'm only checking up," said the god, and Cassian turned back to him, watched his study of Rowan, and realized, with profound bafflement, that there was a ponderous regard in Eros's eyes for her, a respect, taken aback, curious.

"How kind of you," Rowan's tone was dry, akin to the one she had taken with the manticore, but there was something brimming in it now, a desperation, and Cassian realized with a start that she was pleading. The broken tremble that hovered at the edge of her words was burning there.

"And to remind you of the truth of your life," Eros finished, and where Cassian had expected threat, there was befuddlement, and the searching look had returned to the god's eyes.

"Ironically enough," Rowan lathered the sarcasm into her words, was careful not to let her eyes drift to Cassian beside her, though she was all-too-aware of his presence, "I haven't forgotten it." She rolled back her shoulders proudly, fixed Eros with an unblinking gaze. "How did you get here?"

"I am always where I need to be," was his only answer, and then his eyes fell to Cassian. Out of the corner of his eyes, Cassian noticed Rowan bristle in abhorrence, clenching her fist about the hilt of her blade, her eyes fiery as the god's.

"Cassian Andor," Eros said, and Cassian tensed at the unfamiliar note in his voice, but he could not look away from the gaze leveled upon him. "It is nice to finally meet you," finished the god, and, with a chuckling look, he was gone, disappearing with a fluttering of leaves above their head and a laugh that echoed within them long after he had left.

It was a few moments before Rowan let out the tension in her lungs, exhaling long and slow, cursing as she did so and running a hand through the loose tendrils of hair sprung free from the tie. Cassian watched her, his brow furrowed, a concerned and troubled look in his expression till she had straightened and met his gaze. In it, the question he had been wanting to ask since Eadu was brimming, and she recoiled at it, a sudden frustration blazing forth within her, and settling Cassian's concern even firmer within him.

"What does he mean?" he finally asked, when she had watched him for a time, working at controlling her breaths. The air seemed endlessly lighter about them, and yet Rowan's expression was still dark.

"I told you love wasn't always fun to talk to," she returned, began to move forward, farther into the forest, where she was sure the boughs of the trees would have protected what dry wood they could find, but Cassian grabbed hold of her arm as she moved past him, and, try as she might, she did not have the will to resist him. She only paused and met his gaze with a cold look in hers.

"Rowan," Cassian began a moment later, when he had let go his hold of her, and the worry in his gaze had abated somewhat so that he could look within her eyes without the blindness of fear. "We've been running around trying do take down emperors and now the most powerful beings in existence," here he could not avoid the sighed note of incredulous laughter, and Rowan's eyes softened, her stance loosening, "I _need_ you to trust me." He paused, sucked in a heavy breath. "What did he mean?" he repeated, and he sensed the tension in Rowan lessen, the electric defensiveness abating. She leaned back to see better his expression, relaxing into her heels.

She fumbled with the words, working against them, molding them, forming them into a myriad of different expressions till the pondering of her mind fell silent and she was left with the words that had hovered in the depths of her thoughts, simple as they were, since that fateful day. "I'm marked for death," she told him simply, and there was a wry shrug to her shoulders.

Cassian sucked in a deep breath and nodded. He studied her features, read there the expressionless shield. They paused together in the silence, and Rowan found herself holding her breath sharply, studying his features, her heart wrenching within her at the sight of them, and for the first time, the longing reached her limbs, her veins filled with it, to hold him. But Eros was right, as he had always been right. Death had been tugging at her since her conversation with Romulus, and she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her time was nearly here.

"What-," Cassian fumbled. "What does that mean?"

Rowan inhaled deeply, and allowed the confusion and the dread to enter her eyes. "It means that the purpose of my life is to end. I," she laughed with a bitter note. "I was born to die."

Cassian's lips tightened into a frown, and he nodded, long and slow, musing, resisting the facts that he could no longer avoid with not quite as much dexterity as he'd thought he could. "And why- why was Eros the one to tell you that? And why here?"

Rowan blinked slowly, her eyelids flickering up, and she bit her lip against the ball in her throat, the tears building behind her eyes, the words that lurked at the back of them. You know why, she should have said, but they were words forbidden her, words forbidden them both.

"I am born for nothing else than to die." She resolved herself to say it confidently, but her voice was faltering. Cassian breathed shakily, nodded, but there was a strength in his gaze.

"Why don't you fight against it?"

Rowan laughed bitterly, and the hurt turned hard and cold, biting at her with the familiar steel, no longer the pit opening beneath her. "I told you that horrible things happen to people who try to avoid prophecies. This was given to me by the Fates. If I go against it, I could tear apart all that is good in this world," she explained, and Cassian nodded, noting the fey glint in her eyes. He let her fade to silence, and then looked up to the forest before them.

"We should hurry," he told her. "They'll be wondering where we went."

Rowan nodded, and breathed for the first time in what felt like hours as Cassian turned from her and led the way, not unfeelingly, into the overhang of the trees. As they trekked forward in single file, she fought hard against the trembling in her veins, but despite all her attempts to fix her mind elsewhere, still the glimmering compassion in the warm depths of his eyes haunted her, and it was all she could do to swallow past the tears building in her throat.

\- - -

"And if you'll look to your left- over here- we've got even _more_ darkness," Luke was saying, gesturing with a far flung finger into the shadows of some trees. Behind him, Jyn laughed, and he glanced back, breaking character for just a moment, before returning to the jesting tone of a museum tour guide. "But," he said, voice growing solemnly enthusiastic, "you'll notice the shading is a little different with these shadows. The artist, an unknown student of DaVinci uses cross-hatching here as opposed to the usual shading of his contemporaries. It's truly a revolutionary development in the history of art, and as we go farther on, you'll see how others began to take up his practices."

On and on he went, throwing as much lighthearted sarcasm into his commentary as he could, unable to resist the small smile that broke through his assumed professorial countenance at every one of Jyn's laughs. In the period of four days that they'd been walking, Luke's spirits had been considerably raised. Jyn had watched him interact with growing joviality with his sister, reconnecting with her the bonds of friendship and trust that had once been so strong between them. No longer did the shadows hang so low over his face, drowning out what joy that might have once been there. A light had suffused him, and it now burst forth, and she was glad to keep him company on their trip to find anything edible that might taste remotely like anything other than bread and beef jerky. Jyn was beginning to understand Rowan's aversion to it.

Rowan, Luke, and Leo had taken to training her, Cassian, and Bohdi, too, in their spare moments, when they were gathered about their small campfire, resting in what mirth they could before the night drew close and K-2 kept watch against dangers unseen in some attempt to allow them rest, but the rest rarely ever came, and mostly they lay back, eyes flickeringly closed, breath bated in anticipation of the next new danger. The training had helped, though, and Jyn was beginning to grow accustomed to the weight of the blade given her by Reyna before their departure. She'd given one to Cassian and Bohdi, too, but Cassian rarely used it, preferring the knife he kept strapped to his hip at all times.

Swords agreed with Jyn more than they did Cassian, she was beginning to realize. Having trained with Saw Gererra in the art of the using sticks and other such immediate resources, the sword was a familiar weight in her hand, and she found herself growing more and more attached to it with each session till it found its position secured by her blanket whenever they bunked down to rest. Not that she did much of that.

She was finding, day by day, that what she had told Luke on the beach of feeling as if she were walking in a memory was growing truer. There was a familiar taste of it on her tongue, a feeling that settled into her veins easily, as if it belonged there, and even Luke's presence seemed familiar to her, a long lost comfort, but one she had desperately needed. The grief of her father was still close; she felt it every night when her eyes slipped closed, relived the moments, the explosion that had sent him flying, the desperate helplessness of the struggle to reach him, the last, long breath that had slipped from between his lips, the last time she'd ever be called "Stardust", and then the heaving arms of Rowan about her, the wrenching struggle to pull her to her feet, to move her away from the rest of the barrage, and the form of her father disappearing within the flames that sprung up about them despite the rain, hiding him from her vision.

With a start, she brought herself back to the world about her, and found that Luke had slowed, and was now walking beside her, peering into her features.

"You alright?" His voice was low, soothing, and she found herself breathing heavily.

"Yeah," she told him, forced a reassuring smile to her lips as she did so, and then she remembered the openness of Luke upon the beach, the haggard, harrowed pronouncement of "coward" upon himself, and her heart softened a moment. "My father was killed when we were trying to get the plans for the Death Star," she told him, her brow furrowed. "I keep thinking of it." She sucked in a breath, attempted a jesting smile. "It's not helping with sleep much."

Luke nodded, frowning. "I can't imagine that it would," he told her, his voice compassionate and his eyes lightly grazing hers as he turned back to the path before them. They fell into silence, and into the rhythmic cadence of their footsteps, and it was here that Jyn found herself comforted, settling into the presence of Luke.

They walked on in quiet for a time, and that was when they felt it. It was the hair-raising sense of being watched, and beside her, Luke stiffened. Jyn was soon to follow, and though they kept hiking forward, there was a tension to their movements now, and Jyn found her grip tightening upon her sword, her vision sharpening, her steps growing lighter and lighter till she barely rustled the undergrowth. For the silence of Luke, she would not have known he was still with her were it not that she kept careful watch of him in her periphery.

The feeling grew as they crept forward, and Jyn was bristling with it, her whole body tense, muscles highly attuned to the instincts jolted to life within her. As they sped onward, careful, wary, Jyn searched the trees for some sign of their unseen opponent, but there was none, at least, not until there was a loud crack behind them, and the whistle of an approaching arrow, slicing through the air, before Jyn found herself thrown behind Luke, pulled to protection by him as he whipped about, Backbiter at the ready and glinting with a radiance of its own, and Jyn's heart bottomed out at the sight of the creature approaching.


	40. Thirty Nine

Luke and Jyn stumbled slowly together back the way they'd come, tripping through the undergrowth, pushing agains the boughs of the trees that hung low in their path, their movements trembling, unsteady, no longer marked by the confidence that was so natural to them. Luke glanced down at Jyn every few seconds or so, saw that the paleness of her features had not diminished, and squeezed tighter the hand she had placed within his own. Backbiter quivered in his grip, raised warily in defense of any new attacks, though he knew that none would come. He was shaking, the blade following suit, his heart pounding, and he hoped beyond hope that Jyn could not feel it through his skin.

He hovered protectively beside her, careful not to trip into her, still examining the sheet-white features that stared unseeing into the darkness of the forest about her. And so they moved, a fumbling party through the trees, shaken and distraught, and Luke's thoughts scrambled about to reorder themselves. For Jyn's sake, no word of what had happened would pass his lips, and for his, well, he'd do his best not to think about it.

There was firelight flickering before them as they neared the campsite, and Luke realized that Rowan and Cassian would have returned, and it was only then that he was comforted. Of any of them, Rowan was the one that he would be able to trust with the images that raced behind his eyes, the images that he knew for a fact she, too, would understand, and so it was with this comfort that he squeezed Jyn's hand once more and looked down to her.

"It'll be okay," he told her, promised her, and she looked up into the conviction of his eyes, sealed her lips and swallowed carefully, nodding.

"I know," she told him, and he gave her a sad smile as they reached the radius of the firelight. They stepped into the clearing together, loosening their hold of each other's hands, and then Luke met Rowan's eyes, and knew that something had gone wrong.

The light that had been blooming in them was gone, replaced with a cold devastation, a despair of infinite depth, and she was sitting, poking at the fire listlessly. Beside her, Cassian watched her movements, an anguish to his eyes that lingered, wrenched at him, and Luke's heart dropped for his sister, and for the darkness they would soon find themselves wandering into. She looked up when they arrived, but her gaze only drifted to him, passed, glazed, over him, and then looked to Leo, his features restraining a profound concern for Cassian and Rowan, who had emerged with the firewood silently, movements leaden, despondent, and had wordlessly begun to light the fire.

At Leo's question of whether or not anything had happened, his tone jesting with an assumed lightheartedness, Rowan had only met his eyes, anguish bursting up in hers before falling dead, and told him that everything was fine. It was an answer meant to silence him, and he obeyed it, only meeting Cassian's eyes then, confused, to see that the same grief lingered in his, too. Leo's first thought was a wish for Calypso.

Luke met his eyes also, when they arrived, and there Leo read a more pressing dread, an urgent dilemma, and he could distract himself from the heavy silence that hung over them all.

"What is it?" he asked, standing and moving to him.

"Jyn and I need to get to Tartarus," Luke said flatly, and then the life returned to Rowan's eyes. She shot to her feet, the stick she'd been prodding the fire with falling from her hands. Beside her, Cassian perked up, raising his head and meeting Luke's eyes with incredulity.

"What?" Rowan asked, advancing around the fire toward him.

"We ran into Eros," Luke told her, and did his best not to meet Jyn's eyes. He noted the flicker in Rowan's focus; she'd looked to Cassian, and Luke had no doubt that the reason for their morose silence was an encounter with the god themselves. It would account for the agony in her eyes, as well as, Luke realized with a warming compassion, the agony in Cassian's. He regarded the man then in a new light, the expression of dread clearing from his eyes for a moment, replaced with a burgeoning respect. His eyes fell back to Rowan, and he knew that she had observed all that had passed through his mind.

"He was rather convincing," Luke explained. "It's the only way."

"Only way for what?" Rowan's voice was sharp, hard, masking a deeper anxiety.

Luke looked back to her, countering the intensity of her gaze with his own steel. Watching them, Leo remembered the strength in the both of them, wonderfully useful in a battle, but when turned against each other, a devastation for all around them, and he stepped forward to intervene. On the log, Cassian stiffened, recognizing the flash in Rowan's eyes, ready to steady her should she need him, even if she was marked for death.

"Does it have something to do with the prophecy?" Leo asked, stepping closer, and then meeting Jyn's eyes. She was watching him, and he noted a harrowed horror in her eyes, and he wondered what, exactly, the meeting with Eros had entailed. From what he had heard, to encounter Eros was to encounter the unyielding intensity of love, and he knew that love could be ravaging.

Luke's eyes fell to Leo, and there was a relief glimmering there in the depths of him. Any fight that he could spare his sister was a fight won, for there was still a hurt that ran deep there within her, and he could not bring himself to scratch it for her. "It does," he answered Leo, then glanced to Jyn for reassurance. It was there within her eyes, but hesitant. "He said that the hope we were looking for would be there."

Rowan snorted mirthlessly. "In Tartarus?" she pressed, and Luke looked back to her, his brow furrowed, his eyes scouring hers for the source of her bitterness. "There's no hope in Tartarus," she said, her voice growing low, the words drowning, choking.

"How do you know?" Luke returned. "Have you _been_?" he was fumbling for the words, working hard to get them out, to combat the frustration building within him, to convince her of the rightness of their path. "We don't know what's down there, and it's at the heart of Tartarus's territory. Chances are we could strike a blow there."

"As a matter of fact," Rowan began, her voice quivering, her expression drawing itself up. "I have been."

Luke fell a step forward, catching himself quickly, reading there within her eyes something harder than he had expected, a nightmare long hidden, and his brow furrowed, breath sticking in his throat. On the log, Cassian raised himself to his feet, taking a single step toward her, his mouth parting in confusion. Bohdi's eyes flickered between the three of them, but Leo's were steady on hers, mouth agape in horror, remembering the stories Percy and Annabeth had told him of their time there. It was true that Nico had also gone, alone in the depths of the deepest darkness, but he had almost lost his mind, and Rowan seemed far steadier than he had.

"When?" Luke asked, his voice urgent and low, taking a step toward her.

"Before I left Earth," she told him, then glanced to Cassian, met his eyes, and he read there some significant look, not an apology, but an explanation begging to be unravelled, but short by necessity in the moment. She turned back to Luke a half-second later, and the hardness had dissipated, replaced only with that burning anguish he had known in her for years now, the churning grief of a shortchanged child turned to the sunken agony of a wounded woman.

"_Alone_?" Leo couldn't help the question that dropped from his lips, involuntary, horrified.

She bit her lip, and looked to him, and the iron scaffolding of her expression fell with a clamor to the dirt, crumbling as her posture, once drawn up and readied, now slouching, her breaths shaky. "Yes," she told him, kept the tremor out of her voice.

"Why?" It was Luke's responsibility to ask the question; Luke was the answer, or so he thought, but there was finally the glimmer of her former mirth in her eyes.

"It wasn't for you, if it's any consolation," she told him, her eyes steady on his, then shifting to Cassian. "I had some dues to pay," she explained simply, her gaze lowering to the fire, then lifting themselves up with a wryly amused look to Cassian's once more. There was anxiety in his eyes. "You're not the only catalyst here, mate," she said, her voice choking a little on the words.

Leo stepped forward. "What do you mean?"

Rowan shifted her shoulders, rolled them backward, then turned to him, swallowing. "The war with Gaea," she said, breathing heavily, her eyes clearing of the emotion that had been surging within. With dread, Cassian realized the implications of her words, remembering what the manticore had said on Jakku: _But I guess I have to thank you for starting the war with Gaea; without you, I wouldn't have been able to escape the Underworld_. He shuddered, took a step toward her.

"The exile," he said, understanding.

She nodded mutely, then took in the gazes of the others there, leveled heavily upon her, finally coming to rest once more upon Luke. "You've always believed I've had a penchant for working with shadow," she told him, then sucked in a breath. "And maybe that's true," she shrugged, "but only to an extent. The force of the power that I used to heal you on Olympus did not come from me."

Luke's heart bottomed out, and he fell back a step, but her eyes did not waver from his, her gaze only growing greater in strength.

"I," she breathed, "was shown in a vision that you would soon die, unless I saved you. I opened the Doors of Death. With the current that came from the Underworld, and from Tartarus, I was able to gather enough strength to heal you."

"You should have died there," Leo said, stepping forward. "No one can pull those open."

Rowan let out a small, bitter laugh. "Gaea did, didn't she? But yes," she nodded. "I _should_ have died."

"So why didn't you?" Luke asked, resisting the chill in his bones. "And why the _hell_ did you do it? You had to have known what that would cause."

"I did it for _you_, Luke!" Rowan's eyes flashed, and her form tensed, her voice sharp and searing before she was able to calm herself, breathing steadily in and out. "I didn't know that it would help Gaea," she told him, looking defeated. "I just needed them open- only for a few seconds, only enough to heal you. I didn't know that Medea would follow me, and I didn't know that she was working for Gaea."

She was breathing heavily, staring him down, begging him to believe her, and, after a moment, the steely glare of his expression was lessened, and he read in her eyes the haunted horror of what she had done, what she had seen, and he nodded then, relaxing his shoulders, settling into his stance. Cassian and the others began to breathe easier, and Cassian's eyes lost the harsh look to them, fading a little, compassionate now.

"But how did you do it?" Leo was still stunned, eyes wide.

Rowan's expression faded to an emotionlessness that Cassian knew all-too-well, the mask she used so often. "With the help of the Arai," she told him, then swallowed, clarified. "_My_ Arai."

"What do you mean?" Cassian asked, speaking finally, his brow furrowed.

"The Arai are the spirits of vengeance, of curses," she told him. "You heard what Eros said," here she swallowed desperately, her eyes wrestling with the pain within her, pleading almost. "Do you honestly think I wouldn't have cursed him for that? Every damn day of my life? Every one of us has to face death in the end," she continued, and her tone was spiraling, her despair surging within her, the bristling rage at the words that had torn at her from childhood, the wounded, desperate loneliness that marked her ravaged features. "But to face it as I will," she laughed bitterly, a harsh bark of it, "without comfort? I had lived over a decade with that in my head, cursing nearly everyone I came in contact with that might have had a shot at _anything_ better than what I knew I would face. I had an _army_ of Arai by the time I reached Tartarus, and they were waiting for me. And never mind the fact that Percy had seen the cord of your life cut, Luke," here she turned to him, her voice hard and tight, an implosion of emotion, "I was going to stop it- I would have gone to _hell_ to stop it, Luke, and that's what they gave me the power to do," she was breathing heavily again. "But," she slowed, her voice calming. "The Fates needed a string to cut, and I knew then that it would be mine, that it had _always_ been mine, and that was when things went wrong."

There was silence in the clearing, broken only by the crackling of the fire as her eyes fell back to it, her hands balled at her sides as she found the words to speak. "When I realized that," she said, her voice lower than it had been before, calmer, the anguish now a scar. "I lost some of that power I thought I had had. My Arai lost their power, and in the confusion, Medea got out. I saw her go, but I could not stop her; I had to get to you while I still had time, and so I did, and let her be," Rowan finished with a shrug, but Luke's face was an inscrutable wealth of emotion, and he only watched her, his gaze studying her features with a scouring intensity.

"What were the dues you had to pay?" Cassian asked then. He'd moved mostly about the firelight, and was now standing before them, his breath bated. Rowan looked back to him and nodded, understanding.

"Throughout the war against her, Gaea had threatened me with setting my Arai upon the people I had cursed, and so the only way I could help with the fight was subtly. When the war was over, I knew that I could not allow anyone to hold that power over me again, and so I went back before I left Earth. My father and I had returned to the Underworld by then, and I had let him believe that I would be staying with him there, but I knew that I could not. I'd come in contact with Morpheus, and had been maintaining that for years, always under the suspicion that you," she glanced to Luke, "had gone there, but unwilling to leave just yet, not when the Earth still needed rebuilding. Before I left, though, I knew that I had to destroy my Arai. I went down to kill them, and then to meet the Fates. Of course, they had known all along that the cord would be mine, but I needed to know for certain the fate they had laid upon me. Everything Eros had said was true, and with that I was able to leave Earth with a clear conscience." Her eyes were resolute, adamant, and then she turned back to Luke, the worry returning to her expression. "Luke," she said. "There is no hope there. In Tartarus, there is only darkness. It is the _absence_ of hope."

Luke swallowed against the dread building within him, and looked to Jyn, who had been watching it all with an inscrutable expression, her eyes leveled on Rowan throughout her explanation, and then he turned back to Rowan, nodding.

"But we need to go," Jyn said suddenly, speaking for the first time, and bringing the eyes of all the others to her. She remembered the vision Eros had given her, remembered the harrowing images of darkness and confusion, the tugging pull of it at her, and her eyes hardened in determination that cut to the core of Rowan when she met her gaze. "Eros gave me a vision," she told Rowan. "I need to see it through."

Rowan furrowed her brow, cocked her head to the side. "What do you mean?" Her eyes flickered with dread to Luke's, and he regretted how much he revealed in his gaze.

"I-," Jyn faltered. "I can't fully explain it," she said finally, "but he showed me something, and I need to go there. I _have_ to pursue it. And Luke needs to come, too. It involves both of us, according to Eros."

"Did he tell you this?" Rowan's voice was wary.

"He did," Jyn confirmed, and the conviction returned to her gaze, steadied upon Rowan's. Silence reigned in which Rowan strove with the woman before her until Leo finally stepped forward.

"Alright," he breathed heavily a sigh, restraining the quivering that had been building in his limbs at the tension of the past few minutes. "Whatever we do," he began, "we can't do anything now. I suggest we wait to make a decision until we can consult Frank. We give this next day or so to think about it, and then we decide what's next. We'll have to alert Reyna, anyway," Leo finished. "Eros seems bent on either helping us or tearing us apart, and she needs to know this."

Hesitation hung in the air, palpable, and then Rowan finally let out a pent up breath, and nodded.

"Fine," she said, but the grudging tone in her voice was not so well hidden as she would have liked. "We wait till Frank."


End file.
